Sweet William

Drusilla wanted to lay him in her bed, on satin sheets surrounded by yellow roses, with the moonlight dancing through the casement to bathe his slight young beauty in an ethereal balm. Angelus took the body down a back alley and dumped it by the river. Some things just had to be done properly.

They attended the funeral, as interested parties, and watched at a distance from their thickly curtained carriage. It was quite a large gathering from what they could see: many, many relatives and business associates of the family, surrounded by a swarm of funeral attendants. The last doubtless trying to justify the enormous expense of the elaborate hearse with fancy finials and feathers, drawn by four black stallions suitably attired with nodding plumes, two coaches and four, numerous mutes, wandsmen, featherman and all the other adornments that delight an undertakers heart. Very few friends. And they discovered his name, when someone who said he was an uncle came over to thank them for attending. Angelus made polite but particular enquiries about all the other mourners, justifying their own behaviour by explaining that his wife and sister had felt too upset to leave the carriage. ‘Naturally,’ the uncle agreed. ‘It was extraordinarily courageous of the ladies to have attended at all: William would have been very grateful.’

William.

Darla snorted loudly into her handkerchief, which the man must have taken for emotional exhaustion because he made civil excuses and went away.

That night, after three days and nights of death, William rose.

Some may rise after a few hours, but a vampire that is to be truly strong, one with the potential to be a future master, sleeps long whilst the demon takes its hold and grows powerful within the body. And when they awake it is as a mighty thunder rolling across the skies.

Angelus had insisted the women stay at home. If William turned out to be a mistake then he could always quietly stake him and claim the turning hadn’t worked. And if he was worth keeping he wanted to be the first member of his new family that the fledgling met. He had come without the carriage as well, since the walk home would give them a good chance to get to know each other and to lay out a few basic rules.

The churchyard was peaceful, the roar of bustling life in the all surrounding city muted to a distant hum. The air was crisp with the last chill of departing winter as it turned on the cusp of the year into spring, leaving a slight pool of mist in the night and the sharp edge of anticipation; of fresh beginnings. Angelus leant back against a tombstone and waited for the first sounds of the new childe beginning to tear his way out into the world. Soon strong young fingers would follow instinct to break free from the wooden shell. Soon.

William opened his eyes, thought, dark? And moved to settle over onto his side; abruptly his shoulder was painfully bashed. There was something immediately above him, far too close. Shocked into full wakefulness he tried to sit up properly in the pitch black and was startled to find his face crushed against cold, slippery satin. His wildly thrown out arms were penned in on every side by an unseen block that was mere inches away. He couldn’t even curl his knees up without something preventing him. He began to flail out in frenzied panic. Everywhere he was enclosed by pulpy, padded cloth, with hardness behind it.

Oh no. Please no. God no. Not that. Not that. No!

He hammered at the lid above him, and opened his mouth, ‘Help.’ It came out as a strangled mumble. He tried again, ‘Help me.’ Still not loud enough. ‘Help. Help.’ Terror overcame reserve. ‘Help! Heeeelp!’ He lay there and waited for a few moments, tears starting to prickle at his eyes. ‘Help me, please,’ he whispered.

He reached up again and shoved against the coffin-lid. There was a small splintering sound and a little give. Hope surged insanely and he pressed harder, producing more splintering and a little cascade of something falling onto his face.

His hands dropped, petrified in fright, the horror of his situation overwhelming him. There must be six foot of heavy damp earth above him: he didn’t have a chance. The abomination that he had never dared to speak of with his mother – he knew that she feared it so much – had actually happened.

He had been buried alive.

And now he really was going to die. Here, trapped in the dark, alone, smothered. Even if he could somehow pull the lid apart one piece at a time the soil would cascade in and choke him as he did so. And if he did nothing the air would soon be exhausted and he would suffocate. Already he could feel a congestion constricting his throat. And driven by the fear his body was instinctively gasping for the air that must be in such short supply.

He was going to die.

How could this be happening? What had he done to deserve this? This couldn’t really be happening to him. Not really. Not to him.

He didn’t want to die.

Please!

He didn’t want to die.

He smashed his fist against the side and the wood gave a great crack. He froze, expecting everything to come crushing in on him, but this time there was no fall of earth. The side! If he could somehow break open the side then maybe he could push the earth back behind him and gradually work his way out. It was an absurd plan but he had nothing else. He quickly rolled over as much as was possible and braced his shoulder against the lid in the hope that that would help keep it supported. There was very little room to manoeuvre but he started to kick at the side-panel, aware all the time that the air could not last long.

The coffin boomed with each kick, making his head ring, but he was using both hands to push as well so he couldn’t cover his ears. There was splitting and tearing as the lining got ripped. Please let them have only bought a cheap, shoddy one, he prayed. Please. Then there was a particularly loud snapping and the side shifted about an inch. He readied himself to have to hold up the lid, took a deep breath, and gave one last mighty blow.

The side flew away and crashed down into the darkness. A rush of fetid, damp air came over him. William shivered and looked tentatively out. It was dark, but not so dark as before. He could see shelves and other coffins. An undertakers? No, the smell was older, more filled with decay: a vault. He gingerly reached his hand round and up and felt the free and open air above the coffin. The earth was just a scattering that had been thrown onto the lid.

He laid his head back and closed his eyes in relief. He was all right. He was going to be all right. A small smile started across his face, which gradually broadened into a grin. In the magnitude of his relief he felt like a god. He was all right!

After a second he swung his legs out and scrambled down to the floor. He straightened up and looked around again. The cramped space was lined with shelves of the dead, crowded to the ceiling on every wall, except for one where narrow stone steps led up to the entrance. A little light was filtering through a chink at the bottom of the door. William studied this with a frown.

Angelus was startled out of his reverie by the crash of the coffin panel hitting the floor and he straightened up and readied himself. He considered going and opening the vault, but decided against. This was an initiatory rite as much as anything else. It was only a pity that the relatives had not opted for conventional burial, he felt it would have done William good to have had to dig his own way out; just as he himself had had to in his day. He was wondering what William would be like, what his first words would be. Angelus secretly longed for a willing disciple, one eager to learn the dreadful games his master delighted to play. But he knew that at first there might well be no speech at all, only the desire: that deeper urge, the craving for the feed that underlay all else. And that was as it should be, because the keenness of the hunger would give Angelus his first heady moments of control over the fledgling, when he alone led him to the dark satisfaction he craved. The master vampire kept still and silent.

It was a surprisingly long time before the solid inner door was pulled open and a pair of cold blue eyes stared out through the ornamental grillwork of the outer iron gate.

‘Hello. Do you have a cigarette by any chance?’ William said. He was watching Angelus’s expression. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not a ghost. But I do rather feel I want a smoke.’

Angelus found his voice. ‘My name is Angelus. I have been waiting for you to come to me. Welcome.’ He held out his hand imperiously.

William rattled the iron door experimentally. ‘This appears to be locked.’

‘You can open it if you try.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous: this lock is almost brand new. Look at it.’

‘Why don’t you try pushing?’

‘Because there isn’t a chance without the key. You will just have to go for help. If you have a piece of paper I will write down the address for you. That is assuming you aren’t—’

‘Why don’t you try!’

William blinked. ‘Well honestly. Look here… Goodness! You’re right you know, it’s shifting.’ He crashed his shoulder against it enthusiastically with a sudden laugh. ‘Who would have thought it! Uncle Robert’s vault made out of brick dust and glue! And he’s so proud of it as well.’ He burst out with a triumphant smile. ‘There! Thank you, I never would have thought that possible.’

‘Oh, many things are possible that you have never dreamed of before, William. Look around you. See the beauty of the night! All this is yours for the taking.’

‘So how are Cholmondeley and Davis?’

Angelus frowned. ‘I do not… Wait, they were at your funeral. They were your friends?’

William snorted. ‘Friends! If I did have a funeral they certainly wouldn’t attend.’

‘I assure you, they were there.’

‘Of course they were. This would be when they told you my name would it? Or are you just very good at guessing?’ He gave Angelus a sarcastic look ‘And now you simply happen to be out for a stroll around the graveyard in the middle of the night.’ He craned his head to look around and shouted. ‘Where are you? I know you’re hiding out there, the pair of you! Ha, ha, very funny, but it didn’t work.’

Angelus growled and fingered the stake in his pocket. Dru would sulk for a few days, but she would soon find another pretty toy to latch on to. ‘William, this is no joke that has been played. You have been given a great and dark gift. Can you not feel the new power coursing through you?’

‘What are you talking about?’ he said with a withering scowl. ‘Oh, I’ve had enough of this. I’m going home.’ And he headed off at a brisk pace.

‘William, come back here.’ The first direct order Angelus ever gave him. And the first he ignored.

With the speed of a master vampire, Angelus caught him up. ‘Do not walk away from me!’

‘Now see here!’ William blazed at him. ‘I don’t know who you are or how they put you up to this, but I’ve had my fill of being the butt of everybody’s juvenile humour. It wasn’t funny being in there and I’ve decided I’m not going to stand for this sort of thing anymore. I’m going home.’

Angelus smiled. ‘They will no longer laugh, William. You need never again care for anything humans say or do, except to listen to their screams.’

‘Er… What?’

‘William, you are a vampire: a hunter of the night. You did have a funeral; I was there. Your family attended: your Uncle Robert, your cousins, various other people, and your friends – including Cholmondeley and Davis. They buried you because you have died to that world. You are dead. And you have risen again as a demon, a vampire, one who walks the earth to suck the blood of the living and hold the true power of evil. You can feel it in you. Feel your new strength and speed; your senses sharper than any mere mortal’s. You are a vampire, a creature more powerful than humans can imagine. You can do anything, go anywhere. Learn from me and I will make you a creature that all other demons will fear. And William, this power can be yours for eternity!’

‘Oh go away,’ William said scornfully.

‘For Christ’s sake, boy! You must have noticed that your eyes are better. Do you think you could have seen like this in the dark if you were alive?’

‘Wh—’

Angelus held up his hand. ‘And what about your hearing? Listen to that caterpillar chewing on a leaf over there. Or that shrew running through the grass chasing a beetle. It is thirty yards away, William: do you really think a human could hear it? But you can, can’t you.’ William frowned and cast a worried look in the direction of the shrew. ‘And the scent. Can you smell your uncle’s pomade? And the soap the undertaker used to clean his gloves for the funeral before he came? They left this place hours ago, but you can still sense them here. And feel, William.’ He enfolded William’s face between his cold fingers. ‘Feel the song of the demon singing in your veins. Feel the hum of the blood of the mortals all around you in this city of evil, feel—’

‘Are you always this pompous or did my friends write it out on a card for you?’

‘For the last time, this isn’t a practical joke! Why would anyone play such a game? This is the most important thing that has ever happened to you, William. You need to understand it. Aren’t there…’ there was the merest hint of regret in Angelus’s tone, ‘aren’t there things you wish to ask me?’

‘No. I’m not interested in your nonsense. I’m feeling more clear headed than I have for… well, ever really, and I’ve made a few decisions. One of which is that I’m not going to be bossed around and bullied any more. And I don’t care if you were sent here by my so-called friends or if you really do happen to just be passing, I want to… want…’ He stopped and frowned.

‘You are a vampire, William, there is only one thing you want.’

‘Shut up!’ William yelled and threw his hands over his eyes. When he spoke again his voice was calmer. ‘Stop it, just stop please. If you had any idea how ridiculous you sound.’

Angelus glared at him and grabbed both William’s hands then pressed the fingers of one against the wrist of the other. ‘And what do you say to this, William? You have no pulse. You are dead.’

William shucked Angelus off impatiently and with a pert look repositioned his fingers where the pulse should have been. Then he looked puzzled and tried the other wrist, then his neck. He chewed his lip. Angelus folded his arms and waited, watching as the youngster looked uncertainly around as the facts at last sunk in.

It took a full minute.

Then William laughed ‘This is incredible. Un-credible too, for that matter. How can this be?’ A slow grin spread across his features. ‘And I feel… I feel wonderful.’ He walked away a few paces then impulsively jumped up onto a tomb top and started to spin around slowly taking in the night. ‘I feel… ebullient, that’s it. And effu… oh, what’s the word? Effrenate!’ He threw his head back and gazed at the stars. ‘I feel strong, and happy and alive for the first time. And yet to do this I had to be dead!’ He grinned down at Angelus. ‘Isn’t that ridiculous!’ He started to spin again. ‘I’m not dead. I’m dead but not dead. I can’t die! Is this how a god feels?’

‘Vampire,’ Angelus said.

‘Yes. So you keep saying. Vampire then.’ He bounded back down. ‘I’m dead! I really am dead.’ He suddenly stopped and faced Angelus. ‘So who are you?’

Angelus remained impassive. ‘I too am a vampire. A master vampire. And to you, William, I am everything.’ And I want to go home, the master vampire thought, get something to eat, get this brat off my hands, and beat Drusilla for a fortnight for choosing him.

The new vampire digested this latest bit of information. ‘That bit about sucking the blood of the living… what exactly did you mean by that?’

Angelus gestured for them to walk as he started once more to explain.

Ten minutes later they were only a few streets away. Angelus had forgotten just how exhausting a fledgling vampire could be. It was twenty years since he had made Drusilla, and she had never been normal to begin with. Besides, he had known her intimately long before he had turned her, which had made things simple for both of them. William was virgin territory.

For two swift-footed demons their progress was hopelessly slow. William seemed content enough to walk with Angelus, although the master vampire had an uneasy suspicion that this was mostly because the youngster hadn’t yet thought about where he was going. But he kept darting off and staring in fascination at leaves or cobwebs, or pointing out irrelevancies on the distant skyline, whilst Angelus talked. Angelus’s statement that William was now his property and that as such nothing less than absolute respect and obedience were expected of him, he didn’t seem even to hear.

‘…and the blood, the blood is more important than anything, because… William, are you listening to me?’

‘What? Oh, yes. It is the most extraordinary thing: look at the back of my hand; I can see every hair as if it were broad daylight. And yet it is quite dark around here!’ He twisted and turned his hand in exultant wonder. ‘You were saying about the blood?’

‘Can you not feel the craving, William? The urge within you?’

‘Well I feel sort of light headed and intense, if that is what you mean. I think I really do want a cigarette. You haven’t got one by any chance, have you? Or a cigar? I seem to be without. Oh look at that moth!’

‘Ignore the damn entomology! You need to feed— What’s the matter now?’

‘I want to go into that pub.’

‘No.’ It took a few seconds before Angelus realised that he was alone.

The pub was thankfully quiet, with only a group of solid faced men playing dominoes and nursing their pints. Angelus narrowed his eyes when he saw that the little idiot had headed straight for the bar. They were still dangerously close to the graveyard; the risk that someone would recognise the supposed corpse was appalling. William had just ordered a pint of porter. ‘I’ve always wondered what it tastes like,’ he said.

Angelus dropped a hand on his shoulder. ‘We are leaving here. Now.’

‘Leave off.’ He tried to shrug him off. ‘I died yesterday and now I don’t need my glasses. I feel happy, I want to celebrate properly. With a drink!’

The barmaid looked up, startled. ‘Hasn’t he already had enough?’

Angelus hissed in William’s ear, ‘You died three days ago. And you are coming with me now.’

‘Three days! No wonder I feel hungry. I want a sandwich as well.’

‘We don’t do food, love.’ The barmaid had stopped pulling his pint and was looking at him with pursed lips.

‘I want a sandwich: I’m hungry! You must have bread and ham, why can’t you just go and make me one, you unhelpful woman?’

She folded her arms ‘Well, really! There’s no need to talk like that! I don’t need to take that from anyone!’

He tried to reach across to the pumps. ‘Look here, at least pull me a pint, you silly—’

‘Oy!’ A man further along the bar, who had been drawing idle patterns in beer on the polished wood, frowned at the rude youngster.

William scowled back and naively uttered the battle cry of drunkards everywhere: ‘What are you looking at?’

‘Don’t you talk to my Mavis like that!’ The man lunged drunkenly at him and William pushed out both hands and shoved him back. There was a thoughtful second of surprise from all parties as the man flew across the room and into the fireplace. William gazed at his hands in amazement. Then he was hauled sharply backwards by the collar, just as the bosom friend of the first man let out an indignant roar and leapt towards him.

Mavis the barmaid took in the situation and immediately called over her shoulder ‘Albert! There’s trouble. Some little bleeder’s started a ruckus and a big mick just knocked Codger for six.’

Angelus had never seen a group of placid drinkers transform so abruptly into debauched rioters as those suburban proles did. Reflecting that dominoes must be a more vicious sport than he had hitherto suspected, he whirled to punch someone who had just hit him in the back with a bar-stool. He realised a fatal second too late that he had let go of William’s collar.

William’s eyes had widened when Angelus started to fight, but he was not to be left a spectator for long. Within a split-second another drinker intent on improving his manners was swinging at him; this knocked him back into someone else, who also took exception and tried to bash him away. After another repetition of such treatment William conclusively lost his temper and charged head down to butt into the nearest opponent. He gave a victorious howl as the man, an elderly clerk who looked to be about seventy, was felled instantly.

Angelus pivoted back from placing a solicitous boot between the legs of Codger, who was rising groggily, to discover with a sinking heart that William had changed into demon-face.

Mavis started to scream.

The situation was now irredeemable so the master vampire made a quick decision and snapped Codgers neck, then hopped over the bar to deal with Albert, who had appeared, carrying a cudgel, to try and restore order. Angelus hurled the body in the general direction of the fray, where William was wildly flailing at anything and everything with a great deal of vigour and very little effect, and then decided to leave him to it. He concentrated instead on mopping up as people tried to escape from the fringes, whilst sincerely hoping that someone would land a few decent punches on the infuriating cub.

Numbers gradually diminished. William, with blood streaming from his nose and his jacket half torn off, was dashing the head of a small wiry man repeatedly against the wall. Almost all the others were either dead or unconscious. Angelus put a restraining boot-heel on the neck of Mavis, who had been crawling towards the door, and turned his attention back to William. ‘Boy! You will stop that this instant!’

The tone must finally have got through to him because he turned round and looked at Angelus, eyes aflame. ‘Who are you calling boy?’

Angelus gave a deep warning growl that made William stare in shock and back off a pace warily. ‘What…?’

‘Silence! Now, you should know what to do. Follow your instincts.’

‘My instincts?’

‘Yes, boy. Feed!’

‘Don’t call—’ He stopped himself and put his hand up and pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing his eyes a little. ‘Why do I…’ He gazed around in confusion. ‘Oh dear. I think my temper must have snapped. Are they all going to be all right, do you think? Shouldn’t we—’

‘There is only one thing you should be doing, boy.’

‘Will you stop calling me boy! My name is—’

Enough was enough, in a heartbeat Angelus had him by the throat and saw with satisfaction the look of fear as William’s eyes bulged and his hands scrabbled whilst his feet kicked helplessly in the air. Angelus shook him hard. ‘Now listen to me and learn. And stop squirming, you don’t need the air.’ The new vampire’s struggles abruptly stopped in amazement. Angelus smiled, but did not let him down. ‘This is the last time I will say this: I am your master, boy, and you will show me respect.’ It was by no means the last time he was going to say that.

The master vampire studied his fledgling hard for a few moments before gradually lowering him. ‘Now, you are not craving a cigarette, or a drink, or a sandwich.’ His lips sneered at the last word. ‘What you need is blood. This is the Hunger, and you must learn how to satisfy it.’ He went and plucked the sobbing Mavis off the floor and stabbed a finger at her jugular. ‘Bite here and drink.’ He thrust her forward expectantly. William was rubbing his neck and scowling. No further response was forthcoming so with another low growl Angelus gave a quick demonstration, pulling away after a second or so to glare at William. ‘Like that.’

William drew a thoughtful finger under his nose and studied the woman with that slight tilt of his head that Angelus would come to know so well. He absent-mindedly licked the blood off his finger and then froze, gazing at the digit in shock. A second later he had lunged at the barmaid’s throat and was suckling like a bull-calf.

Angelus sighed with relief and went to check on the bodies, slaughtering a few survivors before selecting one for his own meal. He ate quickly, keeping a wary eye on William, who was still sucking noisily and inefficiently; ready to talk him through the difficult process of returning to his human face. That was something that many fledglings had a great deal of trouble with at first but, to Angelus’s gratification, when William finally let the corpse drop he was already changed back. Angelus allowed himself the first glimmer of satisfaction with the new vampire. He had managed to get himself covered in blood though.

William prodded the woman with his shoe, flipping a limp hand back and forth. ‘I think she’s dead.’ He gazed around thoughtfully. ‘I’ve just killed someone. Several people in fact. So did you. Well, you killed rather more than me, I think.’

‘Yes.’ Angelus smiled playfully when he saw William frown. ‘Why, William, is something the matter?’

‘No, not at all. I just feel a bit… odd. We’ve killed all these people and, well the thing is, it felt wonderful drinking like that: I had no idea. Only I’ve never done anything even remotely like this before.’ He looked at Angelus worriedly, ‘What are we going to do now?’

‘I am going to put my feet up. You, on the other hand, are going to deal with the mess.’

‘But you don’t understand. This is – this must be – wrong.’

‘That’s what you feel is it? You’re sure it’s not merely what you have been taught to feel? You’re saying you didn’t enjoy yourself?’

‘No! I mean, that is, yes. Of course I… Why did I… Oh Lord.’ He hung his head. ‘The fact is, and I think I can admit this to you because when all is said and done you were doing it too: but I rather think I had fun.’

‘And that is as it should be. You will never feel anything for a human again, except hunger and contempt.’

‘No! How can that be?’

‘Come over here.’ Angelus bent over the last survivor, who was moaning faintly, he produced a clasp knife from his pocket, opened it with a well-practised gesture, and held it to the man’s eye. ‘If I press down now, what will happen?’

‘You’ll puncture his eyeball.’

‘And how do you feel about that? Do you feel sorrow? Disgust? That you should try to prevent me?’

‘Well of course I should prevent you! That is a human being there. It’s… Well it’s the brute that bashed me on the nose, now you mention it.’ He thought about it for a bit. Angelus watched him carefully and, when he judged the moment to be right, pressed down.

William tilted his head again.

When the dying screams had faded, Angelus cleaned the knife carefully and snapped it shut. ‘We are demons. Killing is our art. Compassion, remorse, love, all these are weaknesses which you left behind when your human soul died. You will never be burdened with them again. From now on there is nothing but the hunt and the kill. And if you ever try to do anything like this again, without my express permission, I will break you into pieces so small you might as well be dust. Is that clear?’

‘Why should I need your—’

Angelus seized him by the throat. ‘Is that clear?’

There was something approximating to a nod.

‘Good.’

‘…poofis…’ William squeaked.

‘What’s that? What did you call me?’ He released him just enough to talk. ‘If you just said what I think you did…’

‘Policeman,’ William coughed out, and he pointed over Angelus’s shoulder. Except that by the time Angelus had looked round he should have used the plural because seemingly half the local constabulary were piling in through the door.

An important skill honed by a master vampire was the ability to make a rapid and realistic assessment of the likely risks. Angelus knocked William unconscious, slung him past the bar, and was soon dragging him out of the back door and up onto the rooftops via a convenient privy, as fast as only a master vampire could move.

After half a mile he slowed down to a steady walking pace with a grim look on his face. He settled the new vampire more firmly over his shoulder. Drusilla had a lot of explaining to do.

Darla looked up with interest when Angelus stalked in and dumped his burden on the drawing-room floor. He opened his mouth to bellow but was prevented by Drusilla dashing past him and flinging herself to her knees beside the still unconscious William. ‘You got him! Oh Angelus, thank you, he’s perfect, just what I wanted. Ooooh, he’s all covered in cuts and bruises. And lots and lots of blood.’ She snuggled up to the still body. ‘Has he been naughty?’

‘What did you do to him?’ Darla asked. Angelus had started to slam open cupboards and throw out the contents. ‘Angelus, what are you looking for?’

‘Chains.’

‘Why?’

‘So I can chain her up to watch whilst I stake him.’

Darla sighed. ‘Darling Angelus, a word?’ She crooked her finger and led the way out of the room. She shoved him against the wall. ‘There is no point in us deciding that Drusilla should have a playmate if you are going to kill whoever she chooses within a few hours. We want to enlarge our family, not fill the dust-bin.’

He growled. ‘I will stake a hundred of her fancies if I wish to. And this one is nothing but a pest. I had to kill an entire tavern full of people just to get him home. So now I am going to torture him in front of her.’

‘Angelus!’ She rapped him on the chest. ‘If you were going to object then you should have supervised her choice more closely. What happened in the pub?’

‘The little fool picked a fight and then went into demon face in full view. I had to kill them all to cover it up. We are trying to quietly maintain a territory here and that is exactly the sort of publicity we can do without. It’s going to be in all the morning papers.’

‘Bah! They will put it down to an escaped lunatic or criminal gang squabbles.’

‘And what about the neighbours? This sort of thing stirs up trouble, we have our reputation to think of.’

‘The vampires will understand, everybody knows fledglings can be volatile. The demons…’ she dismissed them with a wave. ‘You’re letting yourself get upset over nothing. I don’t know why you didn’t just send Drusilla to fetch him home.’

‘Darla, I am going to have to put up with this whelp in my household: do you really think I’m not going to show an interest?’

She sighed. ‘Well, I suppose so. But not too much interest mind. The whole point of this is for us to have more time together. Now,’ she played with the buttons of his waistcoat, ‘why don’t we go upstairs and celebrate the new addition?’

Angelus went and stuck his head round the drawing-room door. ‘Drusilla, Darla and I are going upstairs. Look after the boy. Explain to him about sunlight and so forth, when he wakes up.’

‘I couldn’t find any pretty roses,’ she replied.

Drusilla had arranged William neatly, with somebody’s small intestine draped elegantly across his neck like a glistening scarf, and a wobbly lung on each side. The heart was peeping out between his legs. ‘There are dancing bits of metal inside his head and the sky is painted orange.’

‘That’s nice, dear,’ Darla said acidly.

‘When will he rise, Daddy?’

‘He already has. He’s just unconscious.’

She scowled and leant to slap William’s face. ‘Wake up!’

For the second time that night William opened his eyes. He started to sit up, exclaimed in surprise and knocked the guts aside. ‘What’s this?’ He looked around suspiciously. ‘Now where am I?’

‘Hello, Sir Doglet.’

‘Er, hello. Who are you?’

Drusilla looked at him fondly. ‘We are your new family.’

William shook his head. ‘This is all insane, quite insane.’

‘Don’t you remember Dru, William?’

‘No. Should I? Oh hang on, wasn’t there something about fish? What did you mean by new family? I have a family.’ He faltered. ‘Except they all think I’m dead. Which I do seem to be. So what now?’

‘Let’s see the rest of you then,’ Darla said.

‘I beg your pardon!’

‘Your face, William, your demon visage.’

‘Like when you drank, boy.’

‘Your great big naughty teeth.’

They all three demonstrated in unison.

‘Oh that. I can’t do that. Can I?’

‘Of course you can. Try.’

William tried. He gaped, gagged, gaped again, started to bite the air and creased his forehead. Dru began giggling, her face still in full demon form.

‘Shake your head, William,’ Darla instructed. He tossed it violently to no effect.

‘Look inside yourself, boy, let the rage build up.’

William screwed his eyes together in concentration, but nothing else happened. Angelus snorted and Dru burst out laughing. Only Darla seemed unmoved. ‘It doesn’t matter. Lots of fledglings have trouble at first. Not being able to hide it would be far more of a problem. He managed to feed, didn’t he, Angelus?’

‘Oh he guzzled like a porker when he’d finally worked out what he wanted.’

‘Then not to worry.’

‘Who are all you people?’ William said crossly. ‘I am very confused.’

Angelus growled. ‘So learn to pay attention. I am Angelus: you will address me as Sire. This is Darla, who you will call Madam. The only insane one is Drusilla.’

‘Sire! I’m not calling anybody Sire!’

Angelus leaned over and casually gave him his first vampire cuff, which hurled him across the room to crash against the wall. ‘Oh, you will, boy. You will.’ He took Darla’s arm. ‘Come along, my love, let’s leave the little ones to play.’

William pushed himself stiffly up. ‘Don’t call me boy,’ he muttered.

Two hours later Darla and Angelus were interrupted by the screams.

Angelus threw on a dressing gown and pushed his way through the gaggle of panicking minions clustered outside Drusilla’s room. He strode in and grabbed his childe’s wrists, twisting violently until she was forced to drop the red-hot poker she was methodically applying to her forearms. He kicked it out of her reach, trying not to gag at the stench of burning flesh. The poker rolled across a blue studded-leather collar and leash, and clinked against an upturned china dog-bowl that was sitting in a pool of blood.

‘Get out!’ he roared at the minions still peering in the doorway. ‘Dru, be quiet.’ He shook her roughly but she carried on screaming.

Darla appeared. ‘What has the little lunatic done now?’

‘Burnt herself again. Come and hold her.’ He dragged the sheet off the bed and ripped it into strips with one hand and his teeth, holding the yelling Dru around the waist with his other arm. ‘Darla, come and help!’ He started to bandage the blistered, weeping wounds, tightly and efficiently, whilst Darla held his childe down.

‘The whole point was that we wouldn’t have to go through this sort of performance again,’ she complained. ‘Drusilla, will you shut up. You’re going to have to gag her, Angelus.’

It took almost an hour to deal with Dru, and Angelus was not smiling when he left the room. ‘Allwood!’ The Head Minion came running and gave a terrified bow. ‘Where is my new fledgling?’

‘He left, Master. Before Mistress Drusilla started to… to…’

‘To scream her lungs out because he’d gone. Where did he go?’

‘I don’t know, Master. You never gave instructions that he should be stopped. We did not think that—’

‘Idiots. Fetch the others. And my coat.’

He sent the minions off in every direction, planning himself to retrace his steps in case William had tried to return to his Uncle Robert’s home.

‘It will be light in a few hours,’ Darla remarked as he left. ‘Do you think Dru told him about the sunlight?’

They searched for the rest of the night and found no sign.

Angelus returned last, as the dawn was breaking. It was going to be a hot, clear, spring day; if William were not under cover, he would be dead within a few minutes.

The morning hours were passed in recriminations. Angelus systematically flogged every single one of the minions, whilst Darla berated him for having shirked his own responsibilities.

‘How can you blame them if you don’t make your instructions clear? And you should have locked him in on his first night, not left him alone with that imbecile.’

‘And why did I leave him, you whore? If you hadn’t dragged me off because you can’t keep your hands to yourself for five minutes, then none of this would have happened.’

‘Since when am I responsible for your mistakes?’

And on and on.

At ten o’clock there was a knock at the front door. Charles, the youngest minion, dragged his way to the hall and peered out.

‘…and if you treat my maid like that, she will be no use for a week.’

‘M-Master…’

‘Well perhaps having to do your own hair will get the message through.’

‘Master, please…’

‘If you go on like this, Angelus, they will all leave. No wonder we have servant problems.’

‘The only servant problem we have is that they’re useless blockheads. What?’

‘P-please, Master. The door—’

‘Well for Christ’s sake answer it!’

‘Charles did, Master. They killed him. There are six demons in the house.’

It seemed the neighbours had come round to complain after all.

Darla came down the stairs, pulling her gloves on. ‘Angelus, half an hour!’ She paused to pat her hair in front of a decapitated demon head on a spike in the hall.

‘Excuse me, Mistress.’ Allwood and another minion came past carrying a large trunk.

‘Be careful of that: my Venetian dressing set is in that one.’

‘Crave pardon, Mistress.’ The vampires crept out of the front door with exaggerated caution.

Darla followed to supervise the loading of the trunk and bumped into William standing on the doorstep, peering inside. ‘Oh, it’s you.’

‘Good evening. Um, are you leaving?’

‘Yes. Angelus!’ she shouted back into the house. ‘Your fledgling’s turned up.’ She turned back to William. ‘You are in my way.’

He took a quick side step and she swept down to where the carriage was waiting whilst the minions piled on trunks and boxes.

Angelus appeared in the doorway with folded arms.

‘Good evening,’ William said again. ‘Mr Angelus, may I… may I speak to you, please?’

Angelus stood aside and gestured for William to enter. William’s eyes widened when he saw the state of the hall. Furniture was smashed, the panelling split by deep gouges, the curtains and even the wallpaper torn; the floor was streaked with black and yellow demon blood, overlain with a sprinkling of ash. The severed heads and limbs of six demons were displayed around the room, with the stinking torsos piled in a corner.

‘What happened?’

‘Briefly, William: you did. The sort of game you played in that tavern attracts unwanted attention for the entire demon community. These six were the advance party from the local clan of Avelar demons, who came round to remonstrate with us. That is why two of my minions are now dead and I am having to move the entire household before the rest of the clan turns up. What did you want to talk to me about?’

William gazed about the hall again. ‘Er, I wanted to ask a few questions.’

‘Hmm.’

‘Could we… Um, is there somewhere quieter?’

Three minions came back in to fetch more luggage. ‘Excuse me, Master.’

‘Beg pardon, Master.’

‘Excuse me, Master William.’

‘Did he just say Master William?’

‘Yes. Your questions?’

‘Oh.’ He wrinkled his forehead in confusion. ‘Well you did something to me the other night: you say you changed me into a vampire. And now I can’t do things. I can’t go out in the sunlight and I can’t get into my home. And I feel stronger and yet different in myself and—’

‘Come with me.’ Angelus went up the stairs without further explanation and led the way along the landing. He held a door open. ‘In there.’ William was suspicious, but went in.

Drusilla lay on the bed, a pool of inky black against the sheets; she was curled up in a little ball, a doll clutched tightly in one arm. She appeared to be sleeping peacefully, but the dried tear tracks were clearly visible on her pale cheek.

‘I had to knock her out to stop her screaming, after you went,’ Angelus said flatly. He went over to the bed and rocked her shoulder ‘Dru, wake up. William has come home.’

She opened her eyes instantly and looked straight at William. ‘Bad puppy! Are you going to punish him, Angelus?’

Angelus sat down on the bed beside her. ‘He isn’t a puppy, Dru, or a kitten. He is a vampire. His name is William. And if you want him to stay you are going to have to be nice to him.’

‘But he ran away! That’s not allowed.’

‘He is too young to know any better, Dru. You do still want him, don’t you? To be your new little friend? We talked about this, Dru, remember.’

Angelus got up again. ‘William, if you leave the house again without my permission you will be punished, and I will put a chain on you until you learn. Now stay here and help Drusilla to pack her things. I will answer your questions when I have more time. We are leaving in half an hour.’

William opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again as Angelus walked past him and left.

Dru was scrubbing the tears off her face with the back of her hand, like a sleepy six-year-old. ‘Why do we have to leave?’ she asked softly. ‘Nobody ever explains anything to me.’

‘He, that is, Angelus, said something about a demon clan. Abetar or Avelar or something.’

‘Oh.’ She sat up and patted the bed. ‘Come and sit with me, William.’ He looked at the bed, but didn’t sit. Drusilla’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘You don’t like me! No! You’re supposed to love me!’ She suddenly changed into her demon face. ‘I hate you!’ And she started to sob again.

‘For heaven’s sake.’ William darted over and dropped to his knees in front of her, grabbing her hand. ‘Please don’t cry. Calm down.’

She stopped instantly with a self satisfied little smile. ‘What a brave knight you are. So you will be my best little dog after all?’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t know. I’m not sure what I am any more.’ He plumped himself down on the bed beside her. ‘It’s Drusilla isn’t it? Your name is Drusilla. Like Caligula’s sister. The one he used to…’ He coughed.

Dru was looking very puzzled. ‘But I’m Drusilla. And I don’t know anybody called Caligula. I don’t think you should be called Caligula. It’s a silly name. Choose something nicer.’

‘Well my name is William.’ He looked up and met her thoughtful gaze. ‘You know you do have the most beautiful eyes. Oh! I do beg your pardon.’

‘What colour are they, William?’

‘They’re, why they’re… Hang it all, they’re just eyes.’ He leant over, making a dive for her lips, but she pulled back sharply and gave him a slap on his cheek.

‘No! Not until I say so.’ He blinked and looked very annoyed. ‘I’m the big sister, William. Daddy says so. And he says you have to do as I want.’

‘Your father? I don’t think I’ve met your father.’

She looked confused. ‘But… but, William, you just spoke to him.’ She suddenly squeezed her head as if she felt it was about to burst. ‘I saw you. I’m sure I just saw you speaking to my Angel. I did. I did. I’m sure of it. It was real. It really was real this time. He said I could have a playmate, and I chose you, and you are to be my little William and love me and hurt me when Daddy can’t, and it was all going to be so much fun. It was.’

‘Please don’t be upset! Not again. When you say Daddy, do you perhaps mean Angelus?’

‘Well of course, silly.’

‘Oh, well then I did speak to him.’

‘Are you going to be good and do naughty things with me then? We can play and kill things, just like a proper brother and sister.’

William stood up and fretfully started to pace the room. ‘What is wrong with you? Why are you people playing this elaborate game? You’re not my sister. I have sisters, four of them; only I can’t get in to see them. I can’t get past the front door. And when the sunlight fell on my hand it started to smoke.’ He showed her the pink skin. ‘Angelus keeps telling me that I’m a demon now, a vampire, but I don’t know what that means. And he’s treating me like a child. I’m not a child, I’m twenty-seven. I’m a grown man for heaven’s sake! I work for Thompson Westerling and Hunt, in the export section. I like to spend my holidays cycling and reading; my favourite book is Morte D’Arthur, Mallory of course, not Tennyson. Although Tennyson is quite good.’ He frowned. ‘I have four sisters and a pet dog, my mother can’t ever get the right amount of starch in my collars, and I hate boiled eggs. My name is William.’ He beat his clenched fist against his side. ‘I know my name is William. But all I can think about is how much I want to feed again like I did with Angelus last night. What on earth is happening to me?’

‘Poor little William. You don’t understand either. And you do like to understand, don’t you. You pretend not to, but you want people to see the real you; only you don’t know which one that is.’

He blinked. ‘I remember you. You knew things about me. You understood. After… after Cecily, you understood.’

‘I can see you, my bright boy. I know which one you are and which you are going to be. Hush.’ She put her finger to her lips. ‘Shall I tell you a secret? You can be whichever one you want now. Don’t tell Angelus, he will be very cross.’ She held out her hand. ‘You may kiss me now.’

He looked at the elegant white hand, extended like something out of a fairy tale romance of knights and damsels. My name is William, he thought to himself. I am absolutely positive that my name is William. She is quite insane. And I am still William.

Please don’t let me be going insane.

He shut his eyes for a second. Oh God. What if I’m still in the coffin and I’ve gone mad with fear.

When he opened them an ugly demon-faced minion with foul breath was standing in front of him. ‘Master William?’

He breathed out heavily. ‘Yes?’

‘The Master said I was to fetch Mistress Drusilla’s luggage.’

‘Bother. It’s not ready yet. Come on Dru, we’d better be quick.’

William was quiet in the carriage. He sat morosely staring out of the window, trying to ignore the feeling that the others were watching him. He had been brought some fresh clothes before they left, replacements for the hopelessly torn and bloodied suit he had been buried in. The new ones were expensive and didn’t fit him as well as they should have, and he was being very careful not to wonder where they had come from. He didn’t ask a single question either.

The carriage stopped in a quiet residential street, where Angelus got out with Dru to go and do something that he described as her ‘party trick’. Darla sat and drummed her fingers on the window whilst they waited, and William kept as far away from her as possible. They didn’t speak.

After some time there was a whistle and the coachman moved the carriage along the road and pulled up outside a large house, well set back from the street. Darla went and looked it over with a critical eye. ‘It will have to do I suppose. Come along, William.’ He trooped after her up to the door.

Angelus was waiting for them with a huddled, pathetic, human girl at his feet; she was still dressed in her nightgown, her hair twisted up with rags to try to make it curl. He kicked her. ‘This is Darla, invite Darla in.’

‘Please…’ the girl sobbed ‘please come in, Darla.’

‘And William.’

‘Please come in, William.’

Darla ignored her and breezed in. ‘There had better be a decent bedroom this time, Angelus.’

‘Let’s go and find out, my love. William, you can do this: make her invite everybody in as they arrive.’

‘Why?’

‘Why – what?’

‘Why invite them?’

‘Why invite them – what, William?’

William gritted his teeth. He was going to have to say it, sooner or later. ‘Why must she invite them in, Sire?’

Angelus smirked. ‘We all know the value of good manners, William. We vampires only enter a house if we’ve been invited by a member of the household. Fortunately servants count. Even tweenies.’ He gave the weeping girl another kick as he went past, then linked arms with Darla and went off to explore.

William knelt down. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Emily, sir. Please, sir, please help me. That man: he is a fiend. A fiend, sir.’

‘Yes I know. How did he get in?’

‘I was just fetching a glass of water before going to bed, sir, and there was a knock on the door. And Mr Woodborough, the butler, he went to answer it, and I heard a woman talking, so I slipped to the end of the passage to see who it was. And he just said, “come in” and she… she…’ Emily broke down in sobs.

‘But why did he let them in at this time of night, Emily?’ He shook her shoulder. ‘Emily, why?’

‘I don’t know, sir. But her eyes, when she came after me, her eyes were… I couldn’t look away!’

‘Yes. I remember.’

‘Oh please help me, sir. I’m so frightened.’

‘I think I am as well, Emily. And angry, and happy, and quite extraordinarily alive. You know, Emily, you and I have a lot in common. We are both experiencing something so beyond the bounds of normal human occurrence that it is quite frankly untenable to the ordinary mind. I’m pretty sure we’re both in some sort of mental shock. For example, I—’

There was a pointed cough from outside.

‘Oh. This is Allwood. Invite Allwood in, Emily.’

He spent the next hour standing in the hall of his new home, extracting invitations and answering damn fool questions from the minions about where to unpack the luggage. If it hadn’t been for the crying girl at his feet it would have been little different from when his family went on their annual trip to Brighton. By twelve o’clock the household was at least in, if not settled, William knew the names of all the minions, and he had a fair idea about which were dolts and which could be trusted to use their common sense. Emily had finally fainted at about half past eleven, but since everybody had been invited in by then it didn’t seem to matter much. Allwood had appeared and dragged her off. William was left alone.

He looked around. The hall was still strewn with packing cases but they did not detract from its elegant proportions. A large curved staircase swept up to a landing from which doors led off to the drawing-room and sitting-rooms. Another flight of stairs then led up to the bedrooms. The ground floor had a large dining-room on one side and a library or study on the other. Straight ahead there was access to a grand conservatory looking out over the garden. The kitchen and other offices were somewhere down in the basement. It was spacious, but a standard town house for all that; not unlike Uncle Robert’s in fact. William had been in dozens like it. He went and stood looking into the conservatory; well under the landing of the staircase, out of sight from anybody upstairs. There were orchids hanging from the iron and glass roof, their strange waxy white blooms rising stiffly up on arched stalks, almost too perfect to seem real. The heady spice of pollen filled the air.

Drusilla was standing in the centre of the floor, gazing in awe at a small pot shrub with pink flowers. Her shawl had fallen off her shoulders and lay in a red swirl around her feet. She had let her long black hair fall loose as well, in a shimmering inky curtain down her back.

He had never known that anyone could just stop and look with such intensity at anything. It was as if she was soaking in every cell of the little plant. Every pore and shimmering minute hair, the delicate flush at the base of each blossom and the sparkling drops of water at the tip of each curled leaf.

She was quite the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

He heard voices above him.

‘You can’t go out, we’ve only just arrived.’

‘All the more reason to go.’

‘You always do this, Angelus. You are head of the household, you should be here to supervise.’

‘If I don’t do this soon, he’s going to run.’

‘Then have someone lock him up until we’ve settled in. I’m not doing everything by myself.’

‘Nonsense, Darla. Who knows what sort of idiot Dru’s chosen this time? I need to deal with him.’ There were footsteps on the stairs. ‘You know we’d only be in the way. This is a women’s sort of thing. I’d probably tell them to unpack your hat boxes in the kitchen or something.’

‘Angelus, don’t you dare set foot out of that door!’

He laughed. ‘See you in the morning, my love.’

There was a noise somewhere between the growl of a she tigress and the sound William’s mother made when someone broke a teacup; followed by the bang of a door being slammed. William found himself looking into the dancing eyes of the master vampire whom he apparently now had to consider his sire.

‘Come here, William. Time for your first hunt.’

Climbing and swift running, balancing along the roof-ridges, and the exhilaration of the moment when he discovered he could jump clear from one building to the next. It was the closest thing to flying, with the dark night air rushing clean around him and the brilliance of the stars overhead, and the few people on the streets nothing but insignificant pinpricks far down below.

Angelus selected a homeless girl sleeping in a doorway, and positioned him so the girl was scared awake and flushed along the street. Then they chased her from the rooftops, driving her to left or right with sudden noises and appearances, until she was ready to drop and Angelus streaked out ahead and trapped her. He held her until the laughing William caught up, then demonstrated the death embrace and the kill. He made no comment when William sucked her blood still in his human face, and only gave a slight growl when the fledgling got some on his fresh shirt.

‘You’ve got to appear harmless, William. You can’t blend into a crowd if you look as if you’ve just stepped out of a butcher’s shop.’

‘Oh. Sorry, Sire.’

‘It doesn’t matter. Not tonight. Do you want to try again?’

William licked the smears off his lips and nodded.

Angelus chose again, another street child, a young boy this time; but half an hour later it was William who made the final rush and, fairly cleanly and with only a little struggle, he achieved his first capture and proper kill. He grinned; and, with Angelus’s bemused permission, cut off one of the child’s buttons for a souvenir, after he had fed. Then he turned solemn as his new sire daubed streaks of blood across his cheeks, before they dragged the body off for the Thames to sweep away from wondering eyes.

On the way home, Angelus threw his arm across William’s shoulder; and William didn’t shrug it off.

So the new experiences kept piling up in a whirlwind of sensation and emotion that kept his heart singing like a god’s. He raged, and he fed, and he wondered at the fire that was in him. And he wondered if he should feel ashamed.

Angelus took them all out hunting every night, but he was free to do whatever he chose the rest of the time. As the youngest childe of the blood family he had no responsibilities and was treated with automatic respect by the minions. Though he quickly discovered that he was expected to look after himself far more than he had ever had to do before. The minions were there to provide muscle and prestige, but they were not efficient servants. And anyway he wasn’t allowed to give them orders. If he wanted a fire in his room or hot water for washing, then he had to fetch them himself, so before long he didn’t bother.

On his first night he had actually asked what time breakfast would be and a second later felt an absolute idiot when he realised just what he’d said. But, relieved from the petty tyranny of regular mealtimes, time imposed no structure. There was no need even to get up if he didn’t choose to. And without the intrusion of servants continuously coming in and out he started to loll around half dressed, smoking in his room, sitting well back from the window and watching the butterflies in the garden dance in the sunlight. Before long he wasn’t even worrying about dressing properly when he wandered around the rest of the house. He very quickly decided that convention and stiff collars could go hang, so when they went out he wore what he pleased, unless Angelus insisted on some particular costume to blend in where they were hunting. The simplest way to have clean clothes was to take them from the cupboards left by the previous owners of the house. Or off a victim.

The proper owners of the house were away touring Switzerland and the Rhine, according to the information which had been extracted from the servants they had left behind and who were now providing a reliable food source while they all settled into the district. Word was put out around the neighbourhood that they were renting the house in the Philpot’s absence. So Darla and Drusilla had great fun playing at calling on all the neighbours one heavily overcast morning, and they received return visits for the next day or two. But interest fell off when the weather improved and they couldn’t make any further calls.

William wasn’t allowed out on his own. He asked to go once, but when Angelus asked just what he was going to do, he couldn’t produce a sensible reply. Angelus smiled like a put upon but indulgent uncle. ‘I know what you’re wanting to do, my boy. You want revenge on your family. We all do. Have patience: when the time is right, we will do it together. When you walk into that house again I want it to be with the deadly confidence of a skilled vampire and the understanding to reap your revenge to the full. First you have much to learn.’

‘But—’

‘No!’

And he had started to grow wary of Angelus’s fists.

Something would be explained patiently enough once, but if it had to be repeated then the second time it would be backed up with a blow. And there was no question of trying to dodge because he never even saw it coming; then by the time William had picked himself back up the master vampire would have strolled on down the street as if it were as insignificant as swatting flies.

After it had happened a few times William didn’t get up, but sat there, wondering what on earth he could do about the situation. Angelus had stopped about a hundred yards away and was leaning over the railings beside the river embankment, whistling and watching the Thames. William pushed himself to his feet and walked back to him slowly. ‘I don’t think you’re going to hit me anymore,’ he said steadily.

‘Aren’t I, my boy? Why not?’

‘I think you should just stop. I’m not a child and it is entirely unnecessary. We are both grown men and we should be able to get along in a civilised fashion.’

Angelus laughed. ‘That’s very funny, William. Quite the comedian, you are.’

‘I mean it, Angelus.’

Next thing he knew he was being held by the throat; pushed back half over the railings. ‘Who am I?’

William flailed; he couldn’t answer, though, because the hold was too tight. Angelus smiled and let his throat go so he toppled further back, but at the last second before he tipped over entirely grabbed him by the shirtfront. ‘Who am I, boy?’

‘Sire! You’re my sire.’ He was horribly aware of the swift black water streaming along below him. There wasn’t a soul around who he could call to for help.

‘That’s right, William. And who are you?’

‘I’m— I’m whoever you say I am, Sire.’

‘Very good, boy! Now tell me: do you like feeding?’

‘Yes.’

There was a raised eyebrow.

‘Yes, Sire.’

‘Then don’t you think you should be grateful that I’m teaching you how?’

‘Yes, Sire.’

‘I don’t have to. I can always let you starve until you work it out for yourself. Would you like that?’

‘No, Sire.’

‘So you are grateful for my lessons?’

‘Yes, Sire.’

‘Don’t you think it’s very rude of you to complain about how I teach them, then?’

‘Yes, Sire. I’m sorry. But I won’t do it again. Please let me up.’

‘Hmm, I might. I rather like the look of you like this.’

‘Please, Sire.’

Angelus let him go again and snatched him up a second later with another laugh. ‘Why are you looking so worried, William? I’ve got you. Don’t you trust me?’

‘Please, Sire.’

‘Whose boy are you, William?’

‘Yours, Sire.’

‘That’s right. Mine.’ Again he let him fall back and caught him just in time. ‘Whose are you?’

‘Yours, Sire. I’m your boy, Sire. Only yours.’

At last Angelus pulled William safely back over the railings and set him on his feet; then he suddenly yanked him forward and kissed him full on the lips. ‘I love it when you’re scared, William,’ he said when he was done. William didn’t answer.

The next time Angelus hit him he just quietly picked himself up and carried on. He learnt not to make his sire repeat himself.

Angelus’s attentions, combined with the inevitable rough and tumble of the hunt, meant that he was nearly always covered in small cuts and bruises. He whined a bit at first, but Dru taught him to lick them clean and he soon found he forgot all about them. His soft hands started to toughen up from scrambling up moonlit walls and over soaring rooftops in the deep mysterious hours of the night. And he discovered odd things about his body, such as the fact that his fingernails were rather sharper than they had been, and he didn’t seem to sweat much. He’d never been very careful about his appearance, but without even the occasional reminder of a reflection it soon deteriorated rapidly. Especially since Dru had a tendency to jump on him unexpectedly and ruffle his hair, then run away yelling, ‘Catch, William!’ She seemed to think this was training him how to hunt.

Dru was a wonder though. They romped through the house together like untamed hell-cats. On the second evening in the new home she had collected up every single wine-glass she could find and taken them to the top of the staircase, then thrown them one by one to spin the two storeys down and smash on the marble hall floor – screaming with delight at the crash each one made. Fascinated and appalled he had watched her until Angelus eventually appeared to find out what was going on. His new fledgling observed him cautiously, whilst Dru explained. Angelus bent over the banister and looked at the pile of broken glass, said, ‘Less noise, the pair of you,’ and went away. William picked up a glass and tried to see if it would smash Dru’s as they fell together. By the end of the night they were taking it in turns to think up the games.

Every emotion he had ever felt seemed to be churning up in him in an uncontrollable swirl of marvel and confusion. That and the fact that everything was so strange and new meant that he really did feel like a child again, only a child with more energy and power than he had ever dreamed of. A vampire childe.

He no longer struggled to express through his poetry what he thought he ought to be, nor worried clumsily that people didn’t understand him. Because for the first time ever he just let himself feel whatever was on offer; and everyone else could go to the devil. Together with Dru he revelled in his strength and speed, all through the long imprisonment of the daylight hours: swinging from the banisters like young monkeys, or chasing each other through the forest of chair legs in the dining room. The grand piano didn’t last out the week. William let himself go – and exhilarated in the fall. And he couldn’t quite believe it when no matter how far he went there was still no one to check him. His lessons apart, Angelus sometimes dealt out the odd cuff if they made too much noise or went near the study, but that was it.

Dru had taken over the entire nursery suite. She arranged every toy she could find around the room in a long chain and slept in the middle of them, surrounded by glittering tin and staring glass eyes. Then she declared herself eternally in love with the rocking horse and insisted that William hold the reins and her stirrup to assist her to mount. She didn’t seem to be able to work out how to set it in motion though, and after he had rocked it with his foot a couple of times she clung to him in terror until it had stopped. And then a few minutes later she was screaming and yelling at it to go, cracking its wooden hide with a hunting-crop until great chunks of paint and plaster flew off.

Bewitched, he rocked it for her after that, for up to an hour at a time; whilst she sang soft Viennese waltzes under her breath and asked him if he was enjoying the journey. He started to describe the scenery to her, conjuring up half memories from his childhood and building them up until he was no longer sure which parts were true and which invention. But she grew confused when he mentioned the sun, so he changed to inventing nightscapes.

One evening, in the narrow nursery cot, he made love to her for the first time, as naturally and easily as a young buck taking a doe. When he had climaxed he lay panting on top of her; grateful that her eyes were shut so she couldn’t see the daft grin on his face.

‘Silly dog,’ she said. ‘You’re all heavy and wet on top of me.’

‘Don’t say that, Dru, I’m not a dog, I’m a man.’

‘Have you finished?’

‘Um, yes, I think so.’

‘Well get off then.’ He snapped at her finger, but she snatched it out of the way. ‘No! Mustn’t bite!’ She slapped him, but gently, and wriggled out from underneath. He slumped back and soon fell asleep, never having felt so much a man.

A few hours later he was killing a sailor by the back door of a music hall. Angelus sniffed his clothes as they bent together over the kill. ‘You slept with Drusilla?’

‘I, er, well, yes, sir… er, Sire.’

‘Good. About time.’ A hand shot out and grabbed his collar. ‘Did you bite her?’ William shook his head vehemently. ‘Very well, I don’t mind if you rut like stoats but if one tooth so much as scratches my property you won’t have time to see the stake going in.’ He dropped him. ‘Remember to check the pockets before you dump a corpse.’

‘Why, Sire?’

‘It is always helpful if it looks like robbery.’

When he got home William took Dru by the hand and insisted she come to his own more comfortable bed. He’d found a new use for his imagination.

But there was still one problem.

On the first night it had been funny; when William couldn’t control his face even after a fortnight Angelus began to loose patience. Control of the demon visage, William was told firmly, was one of the key signs of an elite vampire and soon even the minions would begin to notice. The only way to get him into his true face was to get him provoked: when it appeared all of a sudden and he had no idea how he’d done it. Angelus took to shaking him violently and then slapping him across the cheek simply to enable him to feed. Then within seconds he would be turned back to his human form.

One night William pocketed a knife before they left for the hunt. He waited until he thought no one was looking before taking the prey Angelus had picked out for him by cutting it’s throat, then lapping the blood out with his tongue. The next thing he knew Darla was in front of him. She took one look and called Angelus, who dragged him home by the collar and blew him up with a tongue-lashing that lasted a good thirty minutes. William stood there sullenly and said nothing. Two nights later Angelus caught him doing it again.

The master vampire snatched the knife from William’s hand and flung it away. ‘I told you: you will feed like a vampire or you will not feed at all.’ His voice was low and deadly.

William stuck his chin out. ‘Why? It’s a perfectly sensible way to do it.’

Angelus’s eyes glowed pale. ‘Do not defy me, boy.’

‘Well it is. And—’

Angelus’s fist caught him under the chin, throwing him to the ground twenty yards away. ‘It might be a good idea if you learnt not to answer me back.’ Angelus stalked over, grinning. He looked down at William and swooped, hauling him back up. ‘Learn some respect. Quickly.’ William still met his gaze. His sire’s eyes narrowed. ‘Do you really think I can’t make you obey me?’

William kept silent whilst Angelus marched him home.

Back at the lair, Angelus called for Allwood. The head minion came running. ‘Yes Master?’

‘Where are the others?’

‘Jacob and Lucinda are hunting, Master. The rest are upstairs.’

‘Fetch them all down to the back scullery. Remain there until I call you.’ The minion bowed and hurried off. Angelus pulled off his overcoat and tossed it at William. ‘Hang that up in the cupboard in my dressing-room.’ He disappeared into his study.

William frowned but went upstairs. He passed the minions hurrying down, who gave him sidelong looks as they left. And he distinctly heard one snigger. When he came back downstairs, Angelus was waiting in the centre of the hall.

‘I will give you a last chance, William: if you apologise and agree to obey me, then I will let you off this once.’

‘I haven’t done anything wrong.’

William never even saw Angelus move. One hand caught the scruff of his neck; the other smashed an iron manacle round his wrist. Then he was being propelled across the floor. The chain was thrown accurately around a high banister rail of the landing and the other wrist manacled within seconds, both arms being hauled up taut. William’s eyes widened. ‘What are you doing?’ Angelus had taken off his jacket and was rolling up his shirtsleeves.

‘I thought you would like to find out, William, how I discipline my fledglings.’

‘You can’t do this!’ William tugged at the chain furiously, hoping the banister would snap, but Angelus had chosen one of the thickest posts. ‘Let me down.’

Angelus came and stood in front of him with folded arms.

‘Let me down, you brute.’

‘Language!’

‘What are you going to do, Angelus? You’ve got no right to do this, you know. I’m not your property just because you say I am.’

‘No. You are my property because I am your sire. And nothing and nobody will gainsay that, boy.’

‘There are such things as laws in this country. This is false imprisonment!’

Angelus tossed his head back in a sneer of laughter. ‘Do you really think you could find anyone to listen to you, William? What do you plan to do? Go running to the police? They would consider you a lunatic and pack you off to an asylum before the night was out. And if you could somehow get someone to believe you they would consider you a blood-sucking parasite, to be hunted down and killed. You are only a dangerous animal to them now.’

‘I’m not an animal.’

‘No. You are a vampire. And as a vampire you belong to your sire, and no demon will help you against me. Not the minions, not Darla or Dru. No one. You are mine, boy.’ He trickled a finger across William’s cheekbone. ‘Unless I say otherwise. And I will punish you as and when I see fit.’

‘You swine! Will you let me down! Damn well let me go!’

Angelus walked round behind him and took hold of his collar, ripping both shirt and jacket off together with one swift downward pull. William fell silent as the cloth tore. He twisted his head round, and bit his lip when he saw Angelus had picked up a dog-whip.

Angelus watched with interest as his childe turned back stoically and gripped the chains with both hands, looking determined. There was barely a flinch when he sent the lash whistling across William’s shoulders. Reflecting that the boy had more to him than met the eye, he carefully placed the second cut with the precision of a skilled craftsman, long experienced at his trade.

After about twenty he still hadn’t got any visible reaction, so he stopped and went round the front to have a look. William’s teeth were gritted shut but the blue eyes still blazed defiance. Angelus shrugged and returned to his task. He started to lay the new strokes over the older ones, counting carefully in his head to keep track. At fifty he stopped again.

William’s head was hanging now and he seemed to be gulping down huge breaths, blinking his eyes open and shut as he did so.

‘Look at me, boy.’ His childe’s head shot up. ‘Now, I’m sure you’re having fun being brave. And I could go on all night, if I choose. But to make it stop all you need do is acknowledge that you were wrong to defy me, and that you will be obedient in future.’ He cupped the narrow face in his hands, noting with satisfaction that the tears were staying under control. ‘Say it, William. Will you obey me?’ William squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head in refusal. ‘Look at me. This is real, boy. You aren’t going to get away from this with some show of defiance, and you aren’t going to suddenly wake up and find it is all a bad dream. It is happening to you. And this life is all that is left. For ever.’ He paused. ‘Now, will you obey me?’ I will give him twenty seconds, he thought, letting his hands fall and stepping back. William dropped his head again immediately, but Angelus could still see the battle raging within. It took eighteen seconds.

‘Yes, Sire.’

‘Good boy.’ The master vampire produced the key and released the manacles, putting a steadying hand under William’s arm as he let him down. But the young vampire braced his legs and took his own weight, though with head still bowed and fists clenched at his sides. ‘I’m trying to teach you to feed fast, William,’ Angelus said patiently. ‘If you fool about then you will be slow and you risk getting caught.’ William’s nostrils flared, his scowl deepening. ‘Do you understand?’

‘Yes Sire.’

‘Make sure you do.’ Angelus reached across and nipped him lightly on the neck, right over the mark where he had been made.

William felt his sire take three strong swift pulls that seemed to swirl the blood out of him like a black purge, and then the fangs were withdrawn.

‘Whose are you, William?’

‘Yours, Sire.’

‘Mine.’ Angelus licked over the bite mark. ‘Drusilla!’ Dru, who had been waiting in the study with ears pricked, ran to her sire’s side. ‘Take William upstairs. You may lick his cuts if he asks politely, but you are not to give him any of your blood.’

‘Come with Mummy, naughty William.’ Her eyes were dancing as he had never seen them before. She took his hand and started to lead him away.

‘Why would I ask for your blood?’ he asked, halfway up the stairs.

‘To make you heal quickly, silly. When I’ve been very bad, but Angelus wants to play with me again, he gives me his blood and that makes me all well again.’

‘Could my blood heal you?’

‘Don’t be silly, William. You are just a fledgling. Your blood wouldn’t heal a pimple.’

‘Oh.’ He gnawed at his lip. ‘Drusilla?’

‘Yes?’

‘Does Angelus whip you often?’

She sighed dramatically. ‘Not any more. You are ever so lucky. I wish I were a fledgling again.’

William woke the next evening expecting still to be in pain. He had been beaten at school – not often, but it had happened – and he was expecting to hurt for at least a week, probably more. But as he flexed his shoulders he discovered to his considerable satisfaction that there was only a dull ache. He poked Dru awake.

‘What is it?’ she asked petulantly.

‘My cuts have healed!’

‘Well of course they have. Let me go back to sleep.’

William rolled over on the bed and lolled back against the pillows, his hands behind his head. ‘This is amazing.’

Dru snuggled up against him. ‘Daddy’s hit you before, you must have noticed.’

‘Well, yes, but that was just the odd slap.’ He sniggered. ‘I can see why you don’t mind him beating you, now.’

Dru frowned. ‘Why would I mind, William? Daddy knows what is best.’ She trailed her finger across his chest and said very quietly, ‘Sometimes he makes me cry.’

He looked down at her. ‘Dru, you don’t always think quite the same way as other people, do you.’

She smiled a secretive little smile and blinked like a contented tabby cat.

‘Have you always been like that?’ he asked cautiously. ‘Or is it something to do with… I mean did Angelus…’ He stumbled to an awkward halt, looking at her with a worried expression. ‘How long have you been with him, Dru?’ he asked at last.

She sighed. ‘I can’t remember. For ever and ever. All my life.’

‘Really?’ He frowned. ‘You mean, even when you were a child?’

‘I wasn’t alive before he killed me. And then I was dead. And all the worms and beetles weep for my little still heart.’ She crossed her hands across her chest.

‘But how long ago in time?’

‘Angelus is over a hundred years old. That’s older than anybody. He’s the king and I’m his princess.’

‘What does that make me?’

‘You’re my knight, William. The knight of the grail.’

He laughed again at last. ‘And where is the grail, sweetheart?’

‘I don’t know yet. But it’s full of blood.’

‘Well that sounds all right then.’

He found a quiet room and tried to practice. With enough shaking, time, and frustration it came; but then he could scarcely hold it. Darla walked in and discovered him, and he ran out, followed by her peels of laughter. Angelus sought him out in his hiding place, made him go and stand in the middle of the drawing room, and told him to keep at it until he got it right. But with them all watching he couldn’t manage at all. After twenty minutes Angelus walked out in disgust.

He took his next kill with an inexpert neck twist copied off his sire, and then gnawed into the corpse with his human teeth and drank the blood cold. Angelus beat him for a second time, harder, and with no words of explanation.

Within a few days, after one snide look too many, William deliberately picked a fight with one of the minions; and the vampire servant, afraid to retaliate, got badly hurt. Jacob tried to hide his bruises but Angelus found out and tortured him for touching a childe of the family.

The household all lined up to watch, but William lay alone in his bedroom where he had been locked in by Angelus after receiving his third beating.

I don’t care, he told himself as the screams drifted up from below. I’m a vampire and I don’t care. Jacob is a stupid fool and he deserves it because he was rude to me. I don’t care.

He put his hands over his ears.

His sire hadn’t even bothered to chain him up for his punishment, simply hurling him to the floor and laying into him with a belt. And every time he had tried to roll away Angelus had just hit him harder, until his entire back was raw and bloody. Angelus had kept the chains for Jacob, but then, as he said, Jacob didn’t need to learn self-control.

I don’t care.

The next night Angelus came and unlocked the door. ‘You will go out with Drusilla this evening. Do exactly as she tells you.’ And he walked away. Darla, who had been listening smugly outside the room, took her dark childe’s arm and led him off for the night.

Dru took William halfway across town, before she finally chose and killed a pretty girl for him and they fed side by side from the same bite mark; William ripping the hole bigger with his finger so Dru could stick her tongue right in. He licked the blood out of her mouth as they kissed.

‘Where do you want to go today?’ Dru would ask him every night.

After a few days he said, ‘Um, Angelus took me to a dance hall once. Do you think we could go there?’

‘Do you want to dance, William!’

‘No. Well, yes, if you like. But I thought we could kill someone together.’

‘But you can’t bite,’ she said bluntly.

‘I could kill someone some other way.’

She shook her head. ‘Puppies aren’t allowed to kill things. Angelus says so.’

‘But how am I going to learn?’ he wailed. ‘I’ve got to learn how to look after myself, Dru. Otherwise—’

She laughed, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. ‘Can’t leave Daddy, silly. He’ll kill you. You have to be quiet and good and then he will play with you.’

For the next few days William tried being as obedient and polite as he could manage. Angelus more or less ignored him. Pretty much their only interaction would be if William asked a question: when he was invariably dismissed with the curt instruction to go to Drusilla, and she never explained anything. ‘Daddy wouldn’t like it,’ she said, ‘Let’s go and play instead.’ William liked it even less.

Then on their way home one night the young vampires came up behind two clergymen who were coming out of a Temperance Society hall after a late running committee meeting. Drusilla’s eyes glowed yellow. ‘Priests,’ she spat. ‘Let’s rip their tongues out.’

William paused. ‘Are we allowed to do that? Don’t we need Angelus’s permission?’

‘Don’t you want to play any more, little puppy?’

‘Yes,’ he said crossly, and prised up a cobblestone with a yank of his strong fingers, lobbing it just ahead of the clerics, who stopped in surprise and turned round.

‘Pretty men in black!’ Dru called. ‘Come and sing bedtime stories for me.’

The younger cleric took a step back. ‘Oh goodness gracious. Do you think she’s… Oh heavens.’

‘It’s all right, Frobisher.’

‘Do you think… if we just walk away…?’

‘Yes. Very well.’ But the older man didn’t move.

Dru ran out and circled round like a sheepdog, and Frobisher revolved, following her movement with goggle eyes, until he was back to back with his older companion. ‘I’m not at all sure she isn’t drunk, you know.’

‘Quite possibly,’ the other man said gently.

William was standing still, watching the clerics. They wouldn’t break along the street past him. ‘Lie down,’ he said softly to himself. ‘Woof, woof.’ He could smell Frobisher’s fear.

Dru was stalking back towards them, her head weaving from side to side, her mouth a little open though she was still in human face. But he could tell she wouldn’t stay that way much longer.

There was a loud penetrating whistle behind him and he snapped round immediately. Angelus was standing up at the far end of the street, one arm wrapped casually around Darla’s waist. William glanced back at Dru, who had lifted her head up and then ran straight past the men to her sire’s side. He followed her with his eyes until he was staring straight at Angelus once more. Along the length of the street the two gazed at each other, neither moving to make any sign of command or response. At last William turned and took one final long look at the clerics, then ran after her.

‘Come on, boy. What have you been doing?’

‘Nothing, Sire.’

He walked home at the master vampire’s heels.

When they were almost there, though, William hung back and Angelus stopped. Darla turned and raised a questioning eyebrow, but Angelus shook his head in silent signal for her to go on and she took Dru inside. William was staring at the ground. Angelus folded his arms and waited.

‘Please, Sire, may I go out tomorrow? On my own?’

‘No.’

William swallowed nervously. ‘If… if you aren’t going to teach me any more, what is the point of me being here?’

Angelus didn’t answer and William continued to stare at the dirty yellow paving stone, chewing on his lip.

‘Is that it, boy? Said everything you want to say?’

William shrugged.

‘For future reference, boy, a junior vampire when craving a boon or offering penance traditionally goes down on one knee. But then I am forgetting, you know so much more than me about how a vampire should behave.’

William shut his eyes for half a second, and then dropped to his knee. Angelus smiled and strolled off up to the house, leaving William kneeling in the street.

Back outside the Temperance Hall, Frobisher had been babbling on about nothing in a gush of relief. When he at last paused for breath he was surprised to see his companion wiping his eyes. ‘I say, is something the matter?’

‘Oh no. It isn’t important. It was just that that young man looked so like my Billy.’

Frobisher looked away, embarrassed.

‘You know, Frobisher, I do rather wish I had come home in time to make it to the funeral. We were always such a close family before. It is a terrible thing,’ the old man said softly, ‘to have your son die before you.’

The next afternoon the bedroom door slammed open, and William, who had been sitting staring out of the window, shot off the bed with a guilty start. Angelus came in with an unreadable face; and there was a quiet snick as he closed the door behind himself. Then they stood and regarded each other, neither speaking, until William took in the little creamy-white whalebone switch that Angelus was carrying, and a wild look came over his face. ‘No!’

Angelus smiled. ‘I thought you wanted me to teach you?’

‘I’m not a child. You’re not going to whip me like a child!’

‘Aren’t I?’ He screwed his face into mock puzzlement. ‘Are you sure, William?’ Then his tone went flat and cold. ‘Strip.’

With grim determination, William went for the door, only to discover that Angelus had locked it when he came in; and he turned miserably back round to find the master vampire right up against him, that sneering grin looking down a few inches from his nose. He slumped against the door, knowing that he either had to take the beating or else try to fight Angelus: which would mean getting knocked around the room a few times, and then still having to take the beating. He started to yank off his clothes. The smug satisfaction was radiating off Angelus like heat from a furnace.

William dropped his shirt on the floor, unbuttoned his fly, and then quickly knelt down to take off his shoes. He fumbled about, got one shoe off and had switched knees to start on the other, when he glanced up cautiously. Only his gaze was checked half way: Angelus’s crotch was bulging right before his eyes.

Angelus had told him once to always keep breathing as a way of constantly testing the scent, but he took in a couple of extra deep breaths to be sure. He had noticed the smell before, when Angelus was in a rage with him, but he suddenly realised what it had meant, and he slowly reached across and began to unbutton Angelus’s fly, still tugging at his shoelace with the other hand. He didn’t dare look up to gauge the reaction. If he objects to this, William thought, I’ll find out when he rips my head off. But Angelus made no movement as his childe eased the cloth aside and freed his erection.

William dropped his hand back down and just looked. It was sitting right under his nose, the scent twitching all through him in a swirling cloud, and he didn’t have a clue what he was doing but he leant forward and lapped the tip with his tongue. He had expected it to be strong and foul, but he couldn’t taste anything much. The feel though was like nothing he had ever known: taut but mobile flesh that slithered under his tongue as he flicked it down the length and back, and the cool tasteless drops from the tip. It was strange and yet somehow he felt…

He worked up and down for a while, sometimes licking and sometimes nuzzling with his nose or his cheek and then when he got back to the tip he put his mouth right over it and went on working with his tongue as much as he could. He tried sucking, since he knew that was what it was called, but he nearly gagged at first and pulled back smartly. He swallowed and started again more carefully. And he knew he was doing something right because he suddenly felt Angelus’s hands on the back of his head, fingers twining into his hair, bobbing his head back and forth slightly.

There was something he wanted to try. Something he had wondered about ever since he first got them. But he dared not stop and move back to be able to shake his head; so he just went on sucking, wishing that they would come out and imagining what it would be like if they would grow when he needed them. And suddenly there they were. For the first time since he had been turned, his fangs had descended when he wanted them to. And he’d been right, because they fitted as if made for it, one on either side of the cool stiff flesh and the little sharp teeth in the middle rippling up and down just perfectly. Angelus gave out a low purring rumble and began to push his head faster and faster; until William felt his sire still and pulse and there was a great gush of moisture in his mouth, which gave him quite a shock because he had never really expected to manage it. He swallowed most of it and then heard Angelus order ‘Lick it clean.’ Which he did as best he could, until Angelus abruptly pushed his childe’s face away, took a step back, and adjusted his clothes. William stayed kneeling.

‘Get on with it.’

He wondered what he was supposed to be getting on with.

Oh.

He quickly tugged off his last shoe and stepped up, letting his trousers fall off, then stood and waited. He could feel his whole body shaking and he didn’t think he could get rid of his fangs now if he wanted to.

Angelus reached out and cupped him under the chin. ‘Why are you shaking, Will?’ Angelus had never called him that before.

‘I don’t know.’

‘You don’t know – what?’

‘I don’t know, Sire.’

Angelus moved his hand round behind William’s head. His left hand. The right one was still holding the switch. ‘Hmm. Let’s see if we can do something with you.’ He pulled William forward, steering him over to the bed with a firm pressure on the back of his neck. ‘Now where did you learn to do that?’ The voice was like silk tearing.

‘Nowhere, Sire. I just made it up.’ The pressure on his neck changed until the fingers were digging into his nape. ‘At school: the others talked about it sometimes. About what went on.’

‘And you tried it? Went for a little private tuition?’

‘No, Sire, I swear. It happened. Some of the boys. Some of the masters, I think. But I never did. I didn’t want to.’

‘Hmm. I wonder.’ Angelus’s hand came round and started to play with William’s cock. He was standing brushing against William’s left side, with one hand on the small of his childe’s back, the other teasing and coaxing his arousal. ‘Let me see those pretty blue eyes of yours.’

William panicked. ‘I can’t! I don’t know how to, Sire.’

Angelus’s hand clamped, vice like, around the base of his cock. ‘Come on, Will. You normally can’t change back soon enough, that’s the bit you find easy. A brave little manly chap who knows how to keep a stiff upper-lip and never lets his feelings get the better of him. Don’t go daft on me now.’

‘I’m not. I can’t.’ He shut his eyes and tried to imagine the stupid things retreating but all he could think about was the throbbing in his groin. ‘Please, Sire, I like not having to care about hiding things. It’s the only bit about being a vampire I like.’

‘Has no one ever told you how much it lowers peoples opinion of you when you whine like that?’

‘Please.’

‘I’m not interested in hearing you beg, William. Now concentrate. You know where the muscles are, just use them.’ Angelus gripped tighter. ‘Come on… that’s a clever boy.’ He released his hand with a last quick stroke. ‘Now, little one, bend over the bed for me. Put your weight on your elbows. That’s it.’ The hand came back, working him harder this time. ‘Stay there.’ He felt Angelus adjusting his position slightly, making him spread his legs a little, and brushing a cool finger against his crack; the other hand was still pumping.

Suddenly there was a crack like a pistol shot and William bucked forward with a hiss at the sharp sting across his buttocks. The hand instantly clamped shut again. ‘Now, Will, I said, keep still. And no squealing either. I thought you wanted to show me you weren’t a child?’

William pressed his forehead against his balled fists and nodded miserably. The switch came down a second time, but he managed to keep quiet and still and then the clever hand returned to its job. The switch kept falling, cutting and stinging and then it would stop and Angelus would begin rubbing again, until William’s whole body seemed to throb and quiver and he didn’t know if he wanted to get away or push himself harder against it or both together.

Abruptly he was clamped once more and now it was unbearable. ‘I said you weren’t to move, William. Stop. Squirming.’

‘Please, Sire. Please. Pleeease.’

‘Or speak.’ Half a dozen blows rained down in quick succession, until William forced himself to hold still.

‘Now, I am going to teach you some self-control. You aren’t to come, you aren’t to squirm, and you aren’t to make a sound until I tell you to.’ And Angelus took his hand right away.

Angelus gave him a fresh cut. He bit his lip, because his sire had had a clearer swing and that one had really hurt. He felt like he was about to explode.

Another cut.

He thought about rotten cabbages and the taste of suet pudding and their wrinkled old laundry woman on washing day.

Another cut.

He was clawing his fingers into the bedspread and doing long division in his head.

Another cut.

Oh Christ, oh Christ, oh Christ.

Another cut.

Anything. Think about anything. Anything at all.

Another cut. And another. Another. Another.

No. Please. No.

‘Stand up.’

He managed to, very stiffly; every muscle in his body felt knotted taut and quivering into a confused ball of fury, misery, pain, humiliation, and desire.

‘Look at me. Now show me your fangs.’

With every emotion he had ever wanted to express boiling up in him, he snarled, and they sprang forth with no trouble at all.

‘Good. And your human face.’

That was harder, but he remembered what had happened before and forced his feelings down and away.

‘Good. And again. Very good. Again. Good boy!’ Angelus reached out. ‘Now you may come.’ And with half a dozen swift strokes his sire finally brought him to a thunderous release.

William waited to see if his body would ever stop shaking.

Angelus let his cock go and held the hand up, and without being told to William licked it clean, never taking his eyes off his sire’s. Angelus just smirked, twisting his hand and holding out each finger in turn. ‘There,’ he said, when William was finally done, ‘that wasn’t too difficult, was it.’ He tossed the switch onto the dressing table. ‘We’ll keep that in here, I think. But with a bit of luck I won’t need it next time; eh, Will?’

William didn’t say anything. He didn’t even know what to think, let alone say.

‘You’ve got ten minutes. Then I want you in the drawing-room.’ Angelus left.

William continued to stare into space whilst the minutes ticked away.

What had just happened? What on earth had just happened? He shook himself. The time was almost up so he cleaned himself up as best he could, re-dressed, and hurried downstairs. He paused outside the door. They would all look at him. They would all know by now, would be able to smell what had happened even if Angelus hadn’t told them. He swore softly under his breath.

What did it actually matter? Who gave a damn about their opinion anyway? He pushed open the door.

Angelus was standing leaning against the fireplace, staring into the flames. Darla was seated, flicking through a ladies periodical. Dru was just sitting primly, gazing at nothing. Darla looked up. ‘William, I hear Angelus has taught you to control your face at last.’

‘Yes Madam.’

‘Show me.’

He did. It was easier each time. Dru squeaked. ‘William, you can do it!’ She rushed over and put her arms around him. ‘Do it again.’ William smiled and showed her. ‘Angelus, he can do it! He really can. My clever boy.’ She kissed him.

‘Didn’t you believe me when I said he could, Drusilla?’ Angelus said dryly.

‘I thought you might be teasing me. But look, he can. Such a clever boy you are, my William.’ She gazed at him then, with that deep look, fathoms deep, that he was coming to adore; and her voice dropped an octave. ‘You’re all grown up.’

He smiled shyly and mouthed ‘Thank you.’ Then he flashed his fangs in and out, which made her squeal with delight.

She leant in closer. ‘There are ever so many things we can do now.’

‘William,’ Angelus said sharply. ‘Go and fetch our coats, I am taking you and Drusilla out hunting.’ William looked across and distinctly saw his sire wink, once, before he turned away.

William was sitting on a low wall, swinging his legs and whistling. He was supposed to be a gypsy, which had entailed dressing up in clothes which seemed to him to be a cross between those of a beggar and a circus performer, and having his face smeared with some dark, odd smelling liquid and black dye washed into his hair. He was enjoying himself. It was like something out of a six-penny romance: The Bold Romano and the Black Eyed Girl.

His black eyed girl was just then crooning to a small kitten which she seemed to have hypnotised, but every time someone came along she would put it down and dance like an Egyptian sorceress to the music only she could hear. That was the bit that William liked best: watching as she wove strange spells with her lithe body, supple as a willow wand, while the goggle-eyed humans could only stand and gawk at a distance. They had even earned a few pennies in the battered cap on the ground.

The idea, though, was that the real local gypsy clan would hear about them and come and try to chase them off. And in the confusion Angelus would snatch one. He and Darla always exchanged gypsies every nine years apparently – it was a sort of tradition. Angelus had received his a few weeks previously, an elderly crone with teeth as sharp as knives and a tongue to match. He had kept her alive for almost a fortnight, until he grew bored of her and threw her to the minions, to play with as they pleased before they fed. Now it was to be Darla’s turn. He said he wanted something special, though, something just a little bit different and with a hint of danger; and he had decided to let William and Dru help.

Down the street, just in sight of William, Angelus was lurking in wait dressed as a police inspector, so even if the gypsies did spot him they would think their friend had simply been arrested. With the added bonus that if a real policeman came and made trouble for William and Dru then Angelus could deal with him. But so far they had been at it in several different places for three evenings and there hadn’t been a real gypsy in sight.

William took out the flute he’d been given and tried to blow a few notes, producing a noise like a strangled duck and then a long reedy pipe that died away every time he tried to change the pitch. He ignored Dru’s snort of laughter and kept trying until he at last began to create something that sounded almost like a true note. When he looked up Dru had wandered off somewhere, and he couldn’t see Angelus either.

‘Well, well. An Aurelian.’

‘What?’

A huge, red-haired man was standing staring down his nose at him. William tried to remember the smattering of Romany words he had been taught, but they all seemed to have leapt out of his head. ‘Gi’ us a penny, mister,’ he whined instead, putting out his hand.

‘And why would you want a penny, vampire?’

William stiffened. Something that had been niggling at the back of his mind stood up and shouted and he realised that the man didn’t smell right. Smelt very, very wrong in fact. He could feel his fangs starting to lengthen in response to it.

‘If you had any idea how long we have been looking for you,’ the man said conversationally. ‘Quite elusive you damn bloodsuckers can be when you put your minds to it. I’ve been searching just about every graveyard in London.’

‘Your fault for believing cheap novels, then. Why’d we be in a graveyard? We catch live humans, remember.’ William flicked his eyes sidelong, looking for Angelus. ‘You obviously don’t know much about vampires.’

‘I know they cause less trouble if you shove them on a stick. You see, I am Foth of the clan Avelar. And these are my brothers, Gar and Han.’ He pointed over William’s shoulder and William swung round to see two more redheads standing behind him.

‘What’s going on?’

‘Simple, vampire. We are going to kill you. Slowly. Very, very slowly, in fact. And then we will send your dust to Angelus to remind him not to leave his minions wandering around in our streets.’

‘Or my family can all smash your guts into the ground, instead,’ William said brazenly, hoping that the man would assume from his bravado that he wasn’t alone.

‘Actually, I think I’ve changed my mind. You might look pretty set on fire.’

‘Really, Foth? And how exactly are you going to achieve that, then?’ came a voice from the shadows.

Foth hissed and they all swung towards the voice, at which point a knife flew down from a different direction and pierced Han in his exposed throat. William felt the rush of air as the demon toppled past him. Foth and Gar changed instantly, each revealing a row of red horns across his forehead and gleaming orange eyes. William changed too and tried to jump off the wall while they were distracted, but Gar grabbed him from behind. The next moment there was a roar and three vampires charged in from different directions.

William was struggling desperately, wriggling like an eel to try and slip out from the demon’s claws, but Gar hung on like the devil. He had pulled William back over the wall and was using his body like a shield, swinging the young vampire round between himself and the threat. The two minion vampires facing him were looking ferociously desperate and concerned about how to deal with this. But for William everything seemed to have concentrated; and the pounding mess of feelings he had been swimming in since the night he rose, stilled and cleared to a beautiful white flame certainty of kick and twist and bite.

William decided not to bother wondering where on earth Allwood and Jacob had come from, and concentrated on making himself as much of an adversary to Gar as he could, kicking and punching. He had barely noticed the knife point held so one thrust would sever his spinal cord and pierce his brain, other than to appreciate that it’s threat was causing the minions to hang back. Outnumbered, Gar must know he had no choice but to try and hold on to his hostage.

Allwood was attempting to circle round, gesturing for Jacob to go the other way. ‘Push him back, Master William, try to make him go backwards,’ the Head Minion yelled. William shook his head, he could see that if Gar went any further back, the demon would realise there was a possible escape route down a side-street. He had to keep his attention away from it. He struggled harder, even though he knew it was futile and Gar was squeezing him painfully. He managed to get in one satisfying bite on the demon’s arm though, and heard a yell of pain before it was ripped free. Gar lunged and snapped at William’s ear with his teeth. William bucked and writhed even more, the second he grasped what Gar was trying to do.

‘Let him go,’ Gar suddenly shouted. ‘Let him go, Angelus, or I kill this boy!’

And William saw that Angelus was engaged in furious single combat with Foth.

The master vampire was whirling and spinning, his fists seemed to be everywhere, he dived under, round and through every move that Foth could make; and every few seconds he would land a punishing blow, whilst Foth didn’t seem to have touched him once. Angelus grabbed a street lamp, swinging round on its pillar to drive both his feet against Foth’s chest, which hurled the red demon out into the street, almost under the wheels of a passing cab. The horse neighed and reared up, iron hooves flailing and pounding the cobbles either side of the demon’s head. Foth rolled frantically and Angelus darted out, trying to get at him between the traces. The cabby swore and yelled at them, desperately trying to control his terrified horse. Then Foth made it out the far side.

Angelus snarled once at the horse, which bolted in white-eyed fear, clearing the way, and the master vampire charged across after Foth, tackling him from behind and punching his back repeatedly. Suddenly Foth jumped straight upwards, a spring of ten foot or so clean into the air. Without hesitating Angelus jumped as well, grabbing his opponent in mid bound; and they fell down together in a tangle. They rolled back across the street and into the gutter, with Angelus somehow managing to end up on top. He began to hammer his fist time and time again into Foth’s face.

‘Let him go, Angelus!’

If Angelus had heard then he certainly wasn’t interested, because he suddenly seized an opportunity and snapped Foth’s neck, sweeping the body up and hurling it straight at Gar. ‘Down, boy!’ Angelus yelled; and at that voice William automatically obeyed and slipped down and out of his captor’s grip, while Gar was still frozen in horror. The corpse of one demon crashed into the other, and then Allwood and Jacob rushed past William, to finish the job before Gar could struggle back to his feet.

William was just staring in awe at his sire.

‘Well, that was interesting.’ Angelus sauntered up and cast a dismissive glance at the bodies, then reached out an arm and snagged William, pulling him over to him. He started to look him over, tilting his head and checking through his hair. ‘Did you get scratched? Avelars tend to carry poisoned weapons.’

‘No Sire. I bit that one though.’

‘I know you did. You did well there, William.’

William felt a great thump in his chest and if it hadn’t been dead he would have sworn that his heart had just beaten with pride. Allwood was grinning at him too, and even Jacob.

‘That was fun, Master.’

‘Yes. It was about time we did something about our scarlet friends. Besides, he called Will a minion. You’re not a minion, are you, Will.’

‘No. I’m a childe of the blood of Aurelius.’

‘Exactly.’ He nodded his approval, then looked up. ‘Dru, where on earth have you been?’

Dru wandered up, gazing around at the corpses. ‘Did I miss a party?’ she asked.

‘Well, really, Drusilla!’ Angelus winked at William. ‘You can see why I need someone to keep an eye on her.’

William looked puzzled. ‘Sire, where did Allwood and Jacob come from?’

‘Them? They were up on the roof.’

William’s frown deepened.

‘Will, there have never been fewer than two minions watching over you ever since you came home to us. Do you think I’m going to risk losing you?’

William was astonished. ‘I had no idea!’

Angelus smiled and threw his arm around William’s shoulder. ‘I know you don’t, my boy. That’s why I’m teaching you.’

And for the first time, William didn’t think it was so bad to be Angelus’s boy.

‘Angelus!’ There was no answer. ‘Angelus, get that boy down here now!’

There was a muffled thumping from upstairs and a minute or so later William appeared, looking flustered. Darla’s nostrils flared and she looked at him coldly, but her voice remained calm. ‘This is your responsibility, William. Deal with it.’ She gestured across the room to where Drusilla stood with eyes shut, weaving her arms in strange patterns above her head.

‘She’s just dancing, Madam.’

‘No she is not. She is having a vision, and you will stay with her until she snaps out of it. Pay particular attention to everything she says.’

‘Why?’

‘Why what, William? Is that all you ever say? Why, why, why! Just do as you’re told.’ Darla turned her back on Dru and went and sat down near the fire, she started to read the society pages of the newspaper.

William scowled at Darla’s back and looked at Dru. The perplexing vampire was swaying slightly to a complex rhythm known only to her, a low muttering coming from her lips. William pulled awkwardly at his trousers. ‘I’ll go and get one of the minions,’ he said.

‘No you will not,’ Darla snapped.

‘Wh…’ He stopped himself. ‘I didn’t know she had visions.’

‘In my experience, William, you know very little.’

He glanced at the door. ‘But if you’re here anyway then…’

Darla ignored him. Pointedly.

‘So if that’s all right, then?’ He edged a step closer to leaving.

‘Stand still, William.’

‘But—’

She glared at him.

‘Angelus told me to come back as soon as I’d finished,’ he said quickly.

‘I dare say he did, William. But you have not finished. Now be quiet.’

He opened his mouth again, then thought better of it and went and leant against the wall in as marked a manner as he could manage. He drummed his heels for a while. Dru had still said nothing intelligible.

‘Can I at least sit down?’

‘Hush!’

He decided to take this as permission, and went and plumped himself down on the nearest chair.

Darla took one look. ‘Up!’ She snapped her fingers at him. ‘Now!’ He stood up sulkily. ‘When exactly did Angelus give you permission to sit in your elders’ presence?’

‘You didn’t say I couldn’t.’

She started to read her paper again. William fidgeted for a while.

‘I ought to go and tell Sire that I’ll be gone for some time.’

‘There is a blue mist around the ponies. And the queen won’t give up her carriage seat.’

William stared at Dru in astonishment. ‘What on earth?’

Dru giggled and stalked across to him, she jumped and snapped her hands together over his head like a kitten chasing butterflies. ‘Pretty games. Run and catch. Must please Daddy, puppy dog. Must find out which you are.’

‘Are you…. Is this a vision, love?’

She tilted her head in puzzlement. ‘I can see you?’

‘What’s it like?’

She suddenly snapped her head back and her eyes rolled impossibly far up into her skull. Then her legs gave out and she collapsed to the floor. He just managed to catch her in time. ‘Dru? Are you all right, Dru? Dru!’ He cuddled her close. ‘Love! Darla, I think she’s hurt herself!’ There was the sound of a newspaper page being turned. He looked up furiously. ‘Darla! Help me!’

A blow to the back of his head sent him sprawling across Dru’s still little body.

‘What do you call her?’

‘Ow. That damn well hurt. Madam. I call her Madam, Sire.’

‘Angelus, that boy is growing impertinent. You will deal with it.’

Angelus went and sprawled out on the sofa beside her. ‘He’s a vampire, of course he’s cocky.’

‘Deal with it.’

He held up his hands. ‘I am. Put Dru down, boy, and go and fetch me a cigar.’

‘I think something’s wrong with her, Sire.’

‘She’s just having a vision, Will. She sometimes goes like that.’

William gently laid Dru down and started to get up. ‘I didn’t know she had visions. What does she see?’

‘Nonsense mostly. But useful things as well. That’s why I keep her around. Well, that and the fact that she’s a damn fine screw.’

Darla snorted and turned another page.

William went and fetched the cigar box, holding it out for Angelus to select one. Angelus picked out a cigar and rolled it between his fingers, holding it to his ear to check if it was sound. Satisfied he handed it to William. William took it from him, put the box back down on a side table, and reached into his pocket. He frowned and quickly tried his other pocket, looked worried and checked the first one again. ‘I… er, when I got dressed, I think I must have left the cutter somewhere.’

Angelus sighed. ‘Then go and fetch it, William.’

‘And bring back a strap,’ Darla said.

William looked aghast.

‘Why do you want him to fetch a strap, Darla?’

‘I said, darling, he’s getting impertinent. I want you to deal with it.’ She picked up a pencil and made a mark against an article in the paper.

Angelus smiled and leant his head against her shoulder, closing his eyes. ‘And I said I will. Only not now, I’m tired.’

‘You need to nip these things in the bud, Angelus.’

‘Dear God, woman, you’ll be asking me to put up shelves for you next! I nip his bud on a regular basis. Why can’t you do some nipping for a change?’

‘Angelus! Pas devant les enfants.’

‘Well considering one of the enfants terrible is off in Wonderland and the other one is supposed to be fetching my cigar cutter,’ he gave William a marked look, ‘I hardly think it matters.’

William started and scampered out.

Angelus slid down and rested his head in his sire’s lap, bringing his long legs up to drape along the sofa. Darla started to absent-mindedly play with his hair. There was a slight draught because William had forgotten to close the door when he left, but the quietly glowing fire filled the room with a warm homely light. There was no sound but the shifting of the coals and the faint rustle of Darla’s newspaper.

‘How did you get on with the tailor?’ she asked eventually.

‘Oh not too bad. The waistcoat is going to be superb I think. There was less talk than there usually is about having to charge extra for staying open so late. And he refused to walk home alone. Took a cab. That must be eating into his profits!’

Darla smiled.

‘Oh and I ran into Marius. I annoyed him by suggesting we go and take a drink together. He refused of course. I swear that fellow isn’t happy if we don’t fight every time we meet.’

‘That’s because, darling, the last time you got together to discuss the territory boundary amicably, you ended up staking his second best minion.’

‘Yes, well, there is that.’

‘And what did he have to say this time?’

‘Nothing interesting. He wondered why we were drawing so much attention to ourselves these days. Went on about the business with the Avelar demons and the pub massacre. He suggested it would be better for everybody if we kept a lower profile. Waved his fangs about a bit. I was terrified. He seems to be worried that we might attract, oh the frightful, ghastly horror, the Slayer!’

‘He would be.’

‘He’s always been a coward,’ Angelus said contemptuously. ‘Then he started to drawl on about an overall Master for London again. He seems to think there is a need for more order.’

‘And what did you say?’

‘I didn’t. The man is a tedious pest and I was late for my tailor’s appointment.’

‘Angelus,’ she growled, ‘we have to consider these matters. I may have to start organising some alliances. If there is to be a High Master of London again then he should have the blood of Aurelius in his veins.’

‘Really? Did you have someone in mind?’

She hit him lightly and then giggled when he pinched her back.

‘Marius and his empty threats are the least of my worries. Allwood says some human came round this morning demanding to see the owners. Something about unpaid bills.’

Darla hissed in annoyance. ‘I knew this would happen. I never had enough time to check this house was suitable for us. You would be amazed how many nasty little secrets these humans can be hiding. The next thing we know there will be bailiffs and policemen trying to break the doors down at all hours of the day.’

‘We could pay them to go away.’

‘We will probably have to. If you kill some they just send others. I’ll have to find some money from somewhere; can you go gambling again tomorrow night?’

He sighed. ‘I suppose so. I had other plans, but…’

‘Well it is that or move again.’

‘I don’t want to move. I like the conservatory.’ He growled. ‘I remember when I was William’s age and I thought being a master was all about gaining some mystical power. Nobody told me you had to do so much damn work for it. Why can’t I just snap my fingers and have all the minions magically do what I want and the opposition fall cowering at my feet and the humans dance up and throw themselves at my fangs?’

‘Nonsense, darling, you love it.’

He didn’t respond.

‘So what do you plan to do next?’

‘With the tailor? Hmm… Well he’s pretty jumpy all of the time now. Doesn’t like leaving the house after dark. Ah yes, and I found out that his son breeds fancy doves. I might kill those. Decorate the place a bit for them, it is far too dull. An artistic statement about peace and love.’

‘That’s my imaginative bo-oy,’ she warbled in a singsong voice.

‘That’s how you made me.’ He was silent for a bit. ‘A few more weeks and it will be time to kill the son. I thought I might take Will along for that. Show him what it is really all about.’

Darla stiffened.

‘Don’t you think?’ He half turned round and looked at her. ‘I’ve only taken him on street hunts so far. Just the mundane sort for everyday food. Not the real game.’

‘We’ll see.’

She resumed perusing her newspaper. Angelus got up for a moment and poked the fire about a bit, heaping on more coal. He returned to settle down in her lap, stepping over Dru who still lay unconscious on the highly patterned hearth-rug. Her face was deathly still, thrown into sharp contrasts of white and black shadow.

‘That wretched boy left the door open,’ Darla said.

‘Yes,’ Angelus said, in a tone that made it very clear he was not going to get up again and close it. ‘It will be interesting to see if he does bring the strap,’ he added after a while.

‘If he doesn’t you are to send him back for it. I won’t have him disobeying me, Angelus. He’s been getting quite unmanageable these last few weeks. And his continuous questions are beginning to drive me mad.’

‘How’s he going to learn if he doesn’t ask questions?’

‘He should simply do as he is told. It is disrespectful to question his elders’ judgement like this. He should accept that we know what is best for him and leave it at that.’

‘You always used to let me ask questions, when I was a fledgling.’

She bent down and kissed him. ‘That, my dear boy, was different. I had a possible master vampire to educate.’

‘Possible!’ He cocked an eyebrow at her.

She sniggered and twisted a finger round a lock of his hair, giving it a sharp tug. ‘Well, I suppose I might make something of you yet.’

He reached up a hand and pulled her mouth down onto his own.

‘Not feeling so tired any more?’ she asked when they parted.

He snapped wolfishly at the finger that she was trailing slowly down his neck, then settled himself more comfortably against her. ‘Exhausted.’ He closed his eyes again and crossed his hands primly on his chest. She tapped him on the nose and he opened one eye. ‘I need to build up my strength for later,’ he said.

She smiled. ‘Not too much later, I hope.’

The fire settled and flared up briefly, then subsided.

‘Ice cream,’ Dru muttered. ‘I scream and scream.’

The older vampires looked at her for a second or two, then relaxed when nothing more seemed to be forthcoming.

‘So you don’t think William has potential, then?’ Angelus asked lazily.

‘William? Hah! Oh he does well enough to keep Dru happy, but you know perfectly well that he will never amount to anything. Let her keep him until she grows bored and then get rid of him, that’s my advice.’

‘I think he’s quite bright.’

‘Bright! The boy is a blithering idiot, Angelus. You just think he’s quite pretty.’

‘Well he’s that as well. It doesn’t do any harm.’

‘He will never do anything of note, my darling. Don’t make yourself unhappy expecting anything of him. Just have fun and then let him go.’ She started to trail her fingers across his broad forehead and he slid into his demon face, letting her nails trace out the shapes of his brow-ridges.

Dru started to mutter again. ‘Ice cream and jelly. Jolly jelly and jam. Jelly with long legs and a fine fur hat on top. Why can’t we dance today?’

Angelus opened his eyes and saw William standing sullenly before him, holding out a black leather strap.

‘Did you find the cutter?’

‘Yeh.’

‘You know what to do then.’

William unceremoniously dropped the strap on the floor and went to retrieve the cigar.

Dru suddenly screamed. ‘Tea! We must take tea!’ Angelus sat up immediately. ‘Tea! Tea!’ Dru pulled herself up frantically. ‘Tea, Daddy! We must take tea. Now. At once!’

Darla folded her newspaper. ‘Angelus, does that mean what I think it does?’

‘I imagine so, yes. Come here, Dru darling.’ He held out his arms for her and she rushed over, burrowing her head against his shoulder. ‘You think we need to do the rite again, Dru?’

She pulled her head up and met his eye, nodding slowly. ‘Danger, Angelus. The links must be tied to make us all safe. Otherwise the big bad wolf will split up our happy family and there will only be soot for supper.’ She growled, her eyes widening and flicking yellow, and slowly she rubbed her body against Angelus’s with a rhythmic rumbling drone coming from deep in her throat.

‘What a bore,’ Darla pronounced, getting up. ‘I’ll go and get the ingredients. Angelus you had better roll up the carpet, I’m not having it stained. William, stop gawping and get out of the way. In fact get out entirely.’

‘What?’ Angelus’s head swung up. ‘What do you mean, get out? He’s part of this.’

‘I’m not having his blood in the mix, he’s too weak.’

‘If he doesn’t take part he won’t be included in the protection, he won’t be part of the blood-bond.’

‘Precisely. So he won’t weaken the spell for the rest of us. He’s not taking part, Angelus, and that is my last word on the matter.’

The two older vampires’ eyes met in silence for a long time. Angelus was gently soothing his hand over Drusilla’s hair, petting and reassuring her; she was still rubbing sultrily against him. At last he patted her softly and she pulled away. He stood up. ‘William, go and wait in the hall.’

Darla smirked and grabbed William’s arm, pushing him roughly out of the room. ‘Sit there,’ she said, pointing at the bottom step of the staircase. ‘And don’t move until you’re called for.’ She brushed past him, going upstairs.

William stared after her then abruptly sat down, resting his forearms on his knees. He fiddled with the cigar, which he was still holding, and blinked once or twice. Darla returned, carrying an ornate wooden box, and went back into the drawing-room. She very firmly shut the door behind her.

‘Very well, Drusilla, here is the sacred sand, mark out the circle. Angelus, light the candles. I’ll arrange the herbs.’ They started the complex business of setting up for the ritual, talking softly amongst themselves the while.

Outside in the hall, William sat, playing with the forgotten cigar. Every now and then he screwed his eyes tight shut for a second, as if they were hurting him. His vampire hearing was acute, and every word said in that room always carried clear into the hall to any vampire who, when coming back quickly from a short errand, might chance to stop outside and listen.

Especially if the door was left open.

Allwood was not a coward. He told himself this several times as he carefully donned his demon face and rapped on the door to Angelus’s study: whatever happened, from now on he would know that he was not a coward. He bowed very low on entering and then decided to play it safe and went down on one knee. ‘Master, I have to inform you that Mistress Drusilla and Master William are not in the house. Jacob says he saw them leave at sunset.’

It took Angelus three days to find them. His first clue was the newspaper torn to shreds in William’s room. When pieced together the violence seemed to originate around a small notice in the marriages’ column.

Cholmondeley : Adams - On
the 12th inst., at St Michael’s
Church, Cornhill, by the Rev.
P. F. Snowley, James Edgar
M.D. M.A. to Cecily Anne,
eldest daughter of R. R. Adams
esq. of Godalming, Surrey.

The name Cecily had been obliterated with a pin.

Somehow William had got hold of a young man who had been a guest at the wedding, and the young vampires had played until he told them what they wanted to know. Angelus found this out from a hospital orderly who had tended the victim.

‘You’re a reporter with the Morning Correspondent, did you say, sir?’ The stout orderly sucked on his teeth speculatively.

Angelus smiled reassuringly and placed a sovereign in an obvious place on the top of the table in the quiet corner of the grubby hostelry, where he had run the man to earth; then he beckoned over the barmaid.

‘Well, I always like to assist the press in bringing these events to the public gaze, sir.’ He craned his head to look at Angelus’s notebook. ‘That’s Albert, with an A. Oh very kind sir, another pint if you please. Yes, as I was saying, the poor young gentleman could barely talk, he were that close to heaven’s gate, as my missus always puts it. But he did say as the vicious cruel couple what did this to him, wanted to know all about some wedding and the police had to be called.’ He leaned forward with a ghoulish gleam in his eye. ‘But the question is, sir, what wedding? I mean there are a deal of weddings in this country, now aren’t there, as I told the policeman. But I can tell you, sir, that copper, he’s as good as horribly murdered that young couple in their beds. He’ll regret it come morning, that policeman will. For I told him, and I would be greatly obliged if you’ll write down as such, that the young gent, his name was Davis I do believe, the young gent, as I was saying, he kept mumbling, “hanged and quartered, hanged and quartered.” And the policeman, he didn’t think nothing of it, said it was just ramblings, but I know what that means, I do. Means the Hanged and Quartered Inn up the river near Maidenhead, does that. My missus and me, we went on an outing there once, we did, an’ it’s not a name as you forget. Told the policeman an’ all, but he weren’t interested. Well, he’ll regret it, come tomorrow, you mark my words.’

Angelus did mark his words. He left Darla to deal with the household and followed the scent of blood west.

He found the truants rutting in a pool of gore amidst twenty corpses. William smiled when Angelus came in, and lounged back against the young couple who had not lived long enough to regret honeymooning at the small hotel instead of in Italy. ‘Hello, Sire. We were going to send you a postcard.’ He languidly wiped a trail of blood from his lips.

Dru started to shake. ‘William, he is ever so cross. Did we do something naughty?’

‘He’s always cross. And didn’t I promise you you’d enjoy yourself, Princess?’

Her rapt eyes sparkled in dread and awe as she looked between William and her sire. ‘Oh William, you are such a bad, bad dog.’

‘Not a dog, Dru. I’m a vampire.’

Twenty four hours later Angelus had to send for Allwood to help him get the still unconscious bodies of William and Drusilla to the new lair, which meant that Darla was furious at having had even less help than usual for the now unavoidable move.

Eventually, the police discovered the abandoned old house, and informed Mr and Mrs Philpott in Zurich that regrettably their staff must have absconded with most of the valuables, and then thieves broken in, during their absence. Only the frustrated lynch mob of other vampires, who had come round the previous night, ever discovered all the bodies buried in the garden.

In their new house, Dru cried every day for a fortnight for the loss of the rocking horse; and William couldn’t comfort her because for the next two months, as promised, Angelus kept him on a twelve-foot long chain.

It was during that time that William really got to know the man who was his sire. When he first woke up the chain was already attached to his wrist, although the pain was so enveloping that he thought he would never move again anyway. The narrow steel bracelet was the first thing he saw, and then the fine, silvery bright links snaking up above his head, which clinked slightly as something above him moved. He gradually worked out that he was lying face down on a bedroom floor, and that the other end of the chain was being held by someone up on the bed. He lifted his eyes and a pair of dark brown ones met them.

‘Woken up, I see.’

William couldn’t think of anything to reply to this, and after a moment Angelus returned to reading his book. William watched him for a while, running his tongue along his dry lips from time to time because it was the only movement that didn’t hurt. ‘Hungry,’ he said, eventually.

‘I can’t think why. You fed off a score of people not three days ago.’

William smiled wryly. ‘That was fun.’ He half expected a lecture, but Angelus just turned the page and ignored him. I killed that bitch, William thought. It was worth it.

The pain just – was. There was nothing he could do about it, so he tried to think about other things. It seemed to come and go in great waves and when it was at its worst he whimpered and buried his forehead against his hands. At other times he simply lay there, or slept.

Angelus moved around the room a little, but mostly he only sat and read. A minion brought in two silver tankards of blood on a tray, and Angelus came and knelt beside William and pulled him up, holding the mug so he could drink; though the flood of pain almost made him spew it back up again. He felt better afterwards though.

Once he woke to find Angelus had gone and the chain was attached to the bed instead: and he felt oddly worried and bereft. But when he woke again his sire was back

The day after that he could move a bit more, though it still hurt agonisingly. Angelus came and examined his wounds, making him flex the fingers of his broken arm to check that they were all still working.

‘How’s Dru, Sire?’ William asked.

‘Recovering. She’s found the energy to cry.’

‘Does she blame me?’

‘Drusilla has a very shaky grasp of the concept of cause and effect. She will hate someone if the voices in her head tell her to, not because of something they actually did. Of course,’ Angelus said deadpan, ‘sometimes the voices are put there by me.’

The next day a book appeared in front of his nose.

‘Read that.’

‘What is it?’

‘An account of the vampire clans indigenous to Great Britain. Since you seem intent on antagonising all of them, you might as well learn a bit about them.’

After four more days he could sit up, the wounds were all closed, and the bones starting to knit. Angelus made him wash and dress; and he padded around after his sire, discovering just how Angelus spent his time.

The household took far more controlling than William had ever suspected. The minions were unreliable and volatile, requiring constant supervision for even the simplest tasks. Each minion was additional security against the ever-present threat of other demon gangs or over-suspicious humans, but they also meant yet another mouth to feed. The hunting patterns had to be carefully planned to ensure that they did not attract any more attention in the wrong quarters, and then someone had to insist that everybody stuck to it. Most of all, discipline had to be maintained, when the long enforced closeness of the daylight hours led to the inevitable squabbles, and it was Angelus who had to settle disputes and mete out justice. The minions were young for the most part. Clanless vampires who had lost or left their families and were bound to Angelus by little more than the understanding that in return for a degree of deference, and a very little service, they could share in the benefits of his territory and the experience and safety of a group. That and the not inconsiderable force of habit. He kept their respect with his fists and his fangs, but William understood now why his sire would lock himself away in his study for hours at a time, where no one could see the tiredness on his face.

William would sit at his feet, lolling back against the side of the desk whilst Angelus read or, most unexpectedly, sketched. Angelus only drew studies of people. Those around him in all their different moods, strangers he had snatched a glimpse of on the streets, someone he was infatuated with; all drawn from memory with a skilled and surprisingly gentle hand. It was something he only did alone. When they were in the drawing-room with Darla and Dru he would smoke and talk or read the papers, but he never touched a pencil. He didn’t seem to mind William watching though, and when his childe asked for a piece of paper to try his own fist at it, he moved the manacle from his left wrist to the right to make it more convenient.

William couldn’t draw from memory. He tried to picture his mother in his mind and found her face had no features he could pinpoint any more. So he drew what was in front of him: his sire frowning over a book of Chinese battle strategy; Dru sitting by the fire and combing witch patterns in her long hair; Darla and Angelus entwined together in sleep. His style was bolder and harder than his sire’s, less precise, slightly juvenile, working fast as he tried to catch the fleeting emotions around him.

Angelus read the overlong title he had penned under one drawing and remarked ‘You should write poetry some day.’

William snatched the paper back, and screwed it up into a ball, hurling it into the fire. ‘Vampires don’t write poetry, you bloody stupid bastard.’

Angelus let him rage on for just long enough that he thought he was getting away with it; then he abruptly took the strap out, bent him over the desk and thrashed him, William spitting out curses the while. But half an hour later, when William was sitting sulkily leaning against Angelus’s chair in the drawing-room, the young vampire felt a gentle rubbing on his nape and then strong fingers playing through his hair. After a while he was puzzled to hear a soft thrumming sound. It was only when Dru, lying kicking her feet in front of the fire, remarked ‘Listen, Daddy, William’s purring,’ that he understood what it was.

He slept on the floor beside Angelus’s bed for the first few days, listening whilst Darla and Angelus coupled or bickered or chatted above him. Darla soon dropped any pretence of restraint in his presence and after a week she commented, ‘Well, if he’s going to be here he might as well make himself useful.’

Angelus pulled him up onto the bed and lay reclining on one elbow watching with an amused expression whilst Darla taught William more in an hour than Dru had in a month.

Half way through William became aware of another hand working against his back and down to between his legs. His eyes widened and he instantly tried to swing round, but Darla immediately enfolded him in her arms, murmuring nonsense, and the other contact stilled. He was still stiff and nervous as she teased his mouth open with her lips and began a languorous kiss. Then as he began to relax he felt the hand move again, gentler but adamant, something between a caress and a clasp, and Angelus began to croon reassurance in his ear. He wanted to protest, plead with him to wait, anything; but his tongue was clamped between Darla’s teeth so he couldn’t cry out as the cold shaft pushed slowly inside him and he felt his sire gradually begin to thrust. She held him closely and he felt a corresponding grip on the back of his neck, controlling and steadying him as the pressure built. He squeezed his eyes shut. And by the time he was released he only wanted to yell in fulfilment.

Shortly after they had all come, he felt the older vampires lunge across him and plunge into each other’s necks. He slipped out between them and was firmly pushed aside as his elders locked in the embrace of vampire blood-play. The honey and sulphur scent of dark, demon blood roused his desire and his eyes turned golden, but he knew better than to try and join in any more. This was something far beyond mere sex.

After a few days Dru asked if she could join them; she was clearly growing jealous of the attention William was getting. But William found he didn’t want to share. He snarled at Dru, a feral sound that seemed to come automatically out of him, and Dru looked at him furiously then turned away as coldly as an ice queen. She refused to let him near her and he had to sit on his own with his back to the bed, whilst the other three made love. Afterwards he went to Dru and hung his head for her to shout at him, until she relented and he tried to make it up to her in a tangle of sheets and sweat and the chain getting wrapped around their limbs.

It no longer seemed odd to be called ‘boy’, or to spend a morning watching whilst Angelus experimented with new torture methods on a victim. William hunted or played around during the night and slept during the day, and he didn’t bother to sit and stare at the butterflies dancing in the sunlight. He refused to show fear, because he desperately didn’t want Angelus or Dru to think him a coward, but every other emotion that he had been frustrated in expressing all his life he allowed himself to revel in. Until sailing up on the crest of strength, speed, rage and love was his constant addiction. And he didn’t worry anymore about never feeling ashamed, because he had forgotten that he ever used to.

He called Angelus, ‘Sire’ and Darla, ‘Madam’; while Dru was his lover, his infuriating sister, his partner in crime, and his deliriously wonderful Princess. Angelus habitually treated him like a schoolboy, and beat him often for insolence or disobedience, or for no apparent reason at all. He threatened to kill him about once a week. But he also taught him how to be a vampire; and after he broke his leg falling off a roof it was Angelus who carried him home and splinted the injury with his own hands.

And when he sat at his sire’s feet with the large hand gently stroking his head and the quiet purring seemed to rise up of its own accord, he no longer felt human.

One afternoon, Angelus pushed him out of bed early and told him to get dressed, then led him down to the large empty dining room, where he produced the key and gestured for William to hold out his wrist. William met his sire’s eye in surprise, as the manacle was removed, sudden hope surging to overwhelm common sense.

‘Last night,’ Angelus said sternly.

William dropped his head. The previous night had not been one of his better moments. He had been told to attract the attention of a street hawker, but had somehow only succeeded in antagonising the man, and they had ended up scuffling in the middle of the street. He had at least not repeated the mistake of changing into his demon face and had been having great good fun, right up until the moment when Angelus had stepped in and received a stray fist across the cheek. The purple blue bruise was still horribly visible, as Darla had not failed to point out as they were dressing. Not that William didn’t have plenty of bruises of his own, since Angelus had taken him to a quiet alley and kicked and pummelled some sense of contrition into him for five minutes or so afterwards.

‘I don’t know what went wrong,’ William mumbled.

‘I know you don’t. I do. And you have no idea how to fight, do you?’

William looked up. ‘No.’

‘Have you ever done any boxing, fencing, wrestling?’

William shook his head.

‘Good. You won’t have any silly notions to unlearn.’ And they dragged the heavy furniture aside and then Angelus started to show him what his fists were really for.

An hour later, William sank down onto his haunches against the cool wall. Angelus came and settled beside him.

‘Why am I heaving for air if I don’t need to breathe?’ William asked between laboured gasps.

‘Your body remembers that it should, even though your mind knows different. It will forget in time.’

‘How much time?’

‘A hundred years or so.’

‘God.’ He tilted his head back against the wall. ‘I can’t ever quite grasp just how old you and Darla are.’ He cocked a cautious eye. ‘How old are you, exactly?’ Angelus ignored him. ‘Sorry.’ He thought it best to shut up.

‘What year is it?’ Angelus said, after a while.

‘Eighteen-eighty.’

‘A hundred and thirty. Roughly.’

‘Blimey.’ William thought about this. ‘Sire, can I ask a question?’ There was a sort of undefined grunt which probably meant yes. ‘What do you think I’m doing wrong with Dru?’

‘Why do you consider you’re doing anything wrong?’

He picked at a non-existent bit of fluff on his trouser leg. ‘I can’t make her come.’ Angelus said nothing. ‘I’ve tried. I mean, Darla’s shown me things. And I didn’t even know that women could come until… But whatever I do Dru just lies there. She doesn’t seem unhappy, just not involved.’ He glanced at the older vampire beside him and there was just a hint of whine in his voice as he said, ‘She does it for you.’

Angelus smiled. ‘Some things, Will, you are going to have to work out for yourself.’

‘Don’t tell me: it’ll take a hundred years or so.’

Angelus was watching a beetle scuttering across the carpet towards a thin bar of sunlight where they hadn’t closed the curtains properly. He reached out and pinched it between thumb and forefinger, turning it over so its legs flailed helplessly in the air with little clockwork jerks. ‘You need to come out of your head a bit, Will. Start looking at what’s around you instead of just yourself. The world’s far too interesting a place to spend all your time in dreamland.’ He handed his childe the beetle. ‘Here. Put that in a matchbox and give it to Dru. It won’t make her come but it will make her smile.’

William took it carefully and fished out a box with his other hand. He studied the insect for a second before locking it away. It was large and plain black, but with a violet and green iridescence hidden in the shell that belied the simple colour. He tucked it safely in his pocket and then stood up because Angelus had.

‘Wrist,’ the master vampire said; and snapped the manacle back on.

William hated his chain. Twelve foot long meant he couldn’t even walk to the far side of the room on his own. And he’d always considered he would like more company before, but now the total absence of privacy was driving him to desperation. Besides, Angelus was getting tetchy as well. William particularly resented this since Angelus could at least dictate where they went and when. But Angelus was an intensely private person at heart, who needed long hours of solitude for his own peace of mind, and the constant presence of another was in fact more galling to him than to his childe. However it had become a matter of pride for Angelus not to alter the arrangement, however personally inconvenient he found it. And, as the inevitable closest, William bore the brunt of his annoyance.

William felt permanently on a knife-edge of temper; the frustration he was unable to express in Angelus’s presence any other way exploding on every human he met. His kills became messier, his fights longer and the risks he took more outrageous. They started to call him William the Bloody, and didn’t understand why he was so savagely cynical about the name. He began to rag the minions relentlessly, until Angelus put a very firm stop to it. But the fragile balance of loyalties had already suffered and Angelus took to hunting the entire clan as a pack, in an effort to keep them all under his eye.

Yet, for William, hunting was the only relief, when the chain had to be taken off for practical reasons. Even then, though, he was forbidden to step out of his sire’s line of sight. But the temptation was too strong and in the unpredictable chaos of the chase he pushed his boundary to the limit, and beyond.

Then, inevitably, one night William strayed too far and missed Angelus’s signal to move on. Angelus, always distracted by the difficulties of controlling the whole pack in a crowded street, didn’t notice that he had left William behind. William genuinely tried to catch up, made a wild guess at the next junction, and the next; and then finally accepted that he had lost them completely.

He stood at the cross-roads, looking and feeling like an abandoned pup. The sensible thing to do would be to stay put until he was found, or else to get up on a roof and try to spot them from there. But the rational part of his brain was entirely taken up with the awareness that he had dug himself into a hole so deep that the quickest way out was probably down.

He was going to be missed.

He had at most a minute.

And his fear of what Angelus would do to him when he was caught finally bubbled over into the only release he could find. In the middle of the West-end theatre crowd he changed into his true face, and hurled a passer-by that had bumped into him straight through a restaurant window.

Within minutes he found himself in the centre of the biggest street brawl he had ever imagined. The extraordinarily large group of friends of the casualty, most of the restaurant waiters, and a number of enthusiastic bystanders were all trying to detain the supposed lunatic until the police arrived. And from the harsh sound of rattles the police were in fact approaching fast. Then out of the corner of his eye he saw Allwood, and behind him, Angelus.

Even the master vampire seemed dumbfounded by the situation for a second.

William ducked and swiped frantically, desperately trying to remember everything Angelus had ever taught him. He was getting repeatedly pummelled and kicked though, and the sheer weight of numbers was beginning to tell. There was blood streaming into his eyes from a cut on his forehead and he had no idea what to do next. Finally he gave his sire a look of hopeless pleading.

And, without time for fancy tactics, Angelus led his pack straight at the charge.

With eight vampires involved there was little doubt of the outcome. It took barely a moment to extract William and then they all left, pursued for nearly a mile by the outraged mob.

After another mile or two for safety, Angelus gradually slowed the pace and in a dark side street he at last called them to a halt. The big vampire stood and looked at his youngest childe.

It was Dru who said out loud what they were all thinking. ‘Now what’s he going to do?’

Angelus was suddenly all action. ‘Drusilla, take the lads. No, not you, Allwood.’

Dru nodded. ‘The wheel turns and the king flies off into the air, but little birdies don’t have wings.’

‘That’s right. I’ll join you soon, my girl.’

William just stared, his fists clenched at his sides and his face set and white.

But Darla was clearly only waiting until the others were out of earshot. ‘Well? Are we actually going to discuss this, Angelus?’

‘Do I have any choice?’

‘Of course you have the choice!’

‘I think it’s obvious what has to be done.’

She looked at him steadily, and then her face fell. ‘I don’t believe it, Angelus!’ she shrieked. ‘We came here because you wanted this. You, Angelus, not me. You wanted to play at being a master, with minions and a territory. It has taken years and I gave up a great deal for this! I like London. I like having respect and servants and a carriage and a proper family. And you promised me, Angelus. You promised!’

‘On the contrary, Darla, you promised me.’

‘But of course you can’t live up to it, can you. Oh no, Angelus can never take on a responsibility like that. Angelus can’t ever stick with anything. He’ll have an obsession that will drag us half way across the globe but three days later we have to come all the way back again!’

‘Woman, one thing we do not have is the time for one of your tirades.’

William was on the verge of running. He had been close before but never so close. The reasons against were the same as ever: he had nowhere to go, he didn’t want to be alone, he would probably be killed within a month without anyone to help him, and however fast he ran Angelus would as like as not catch him. But for the first time it might be the most attractive option. As if reading his thoughts, Allwood put a hand on his shoulder. William growled threateningly and shrugged it off. ‘You aren’t supposed to touch me without his permission.’

‘True. But I don’t fancy letting you leave either.’ He replaced his hand. ‘She’s quite right about his obsessions you know. It’s hard to keep him interested. Makes for an unusual sort of life.’

‘Not alive, Allwood.’

‘No. So I’ve been told.’

‘Get your sodding hands off me!’ he snarled; and Allwood actually backed off a pace with eyes submissively lowered for just a second.

‘Boy! Come here.’ Angelus gave him a hard look, then turned back to Darla briefly. ‘You can manage?’

‘Yes, Angelus, I can manage. I’ve packed up by myself five times already this year, and Drusilla will help. Just tell me where to go.’

‘It’s called Hanwell. The train is from Paddington. From there we can go on and catch the train north, tomorrow night. Don’t forget my dressing case.’ He watched her walk away.

William knew he had either to run or to try and fight back.

‘It’s interesting having you around, Master William,’ Allwood said. ‘A right royal pain in the neck, but not run of the mill.’

William ignored him because Angelus had just snapped his fingers. ‘I said come here, boy.’ William still didn’t move. ‘Allwood, fetch me a branch from that tree.’ Angelus grabbed William and positioned him. ‘Now don’t you dare move an inch,’ he said in a low and deadly voice.

Allwood brought back a stout limb, which he placed in Angelus’s outstretched hand.

‘I’m going to teach you a lesson, boy.’ Angelus swung his arm up and William flinched as the stick whistled back and struck Allwood full across the face, knocking him to the ground. The master vampire stamped his boot on his minion’s neck with a crunch that told the bones had shattered.

Allwood’s voice-box was crushed so only a strange bubbling sound came out when Angelus knelt down and cradled his head in his arms. ‘Don’t let them suspect what is about to happen; disable them quickly; then you put your arms like so, twist and pull sharply back and out, and you move quickly if you don’t want to get a mouthful of ash as they explode.’ He stood up dusting his hands. ‘It actually takes less force than you would expect. Oh and, William, when I tell you to come to me, you come.’

‘Why did you just kill Allwood?’

‘For the same reason that Darla and Dru are currently staking the others. Thanks to you we need to travel fast, without unnecessary baggage, and they know too much about us to risk leaving them loose.’

‘Am I supposed to feel guilty about them?’

‘I would kill you right now if you did. You are a vampire. You do not have a conscience and your only loyalty should be to your bloodline. Which leaves us to concentrate on the ever-present problem of where we can go that is sure to be safe from tomorrow’s sun. Fortunately we are lucky this time: we have a place where we won’t be turned away, don’t we.’

‘Hanwell,’ William said flatly.

‘Hanwell,’ Angelus agreed.

The parlour-maid answered the door. She was new and didn’t know her business, and invited the strangers in despite the lateness of the hour.

‘The master is in his study. Would you gentlemen please wait a moment.’

William gazed dully at the mirror-backed coat stand in the hall, then abruptly turned his back on it. Angelus was watching him closely. ‘He’s working late,’ he remarked.

‘He always does.’

The maid came back and showed them in, holding the door politely. Angelus breezed through. ‘Hello, parson.’

The vicar didn’t respond: he was looking at his son.

‘So,’ he said after a while, ‘it was you I saw that night, Billy. You had better both have a seat.’

Angelus went and leant against a bookshelf. ‘You know, tonight was going badly. Suddenly it’s more promising.’ He took out a pocket-knife and started to trim his nails.

William looked at his father, who was very clearly on the verge of tears and only holding them back because of the stranger in the room. Then he looked at his sire, big and confidant and clearly enjoying himself.

‘Fuck this.’ His father’s head flew up while his sire gave a snort of laughter. ‘What is this, Angelus? Am I supposed to choose between you?’

‘What makes you think you have a choice? I’m just giving you a chance to prove you are worth keeping around.’

‘Billy, please tell me what is going on. Who is this man? And how did—’

‘Oh you want dramatic gestures do you? You want me to say “Billy is dead” and “Who’s the weakling now, Father”. Well sod that. Sod that and sod you, Angelus. And you can keep your bloody hands away from my throat for once. Did it ever occur to you that I might actually have liked my life and my family? That my father and I got on perfectly well and I respected and admired him? Bloody hell, I loved him.

‘I love you, Pa. I never quite bothered to say it, but I’m saying it now. I love you. I… Oh fuck, I don’t know. I don’t even know what I feel any more. Can I kill him now, please, Sire? Or is it going to amuse you to torture them all slowly in front of me. I’d call that predictable, but what the hell, you call the tune. As usual you call the whole bloody tune.’ He grabbed the desk lamp and hurled it into the fire where the oil in it blazed out a whoosh of flame that took several seconds to die down. The two older men stared at him, shocked motionless.

It was his father who recovered first. ‘Thank you, Billy, I hope you know that I love you too.’

William closed his eyes and hung his head.

Angelus walked over, helped himself to a cigar out of the box on the desk, clipped it, and with exaggerated casualness lit it from the waning fire. ‘Almost amusing. Keep trying.’

‘Bow-wow,’ William said. He looked up at his father. ‘Who’s here, Pa? My mother? My sisters?’

‘Alice is staying with friends. Your mother, Daisy, Kitty, and Edith are here.’

‘And there’s a cook and two maids, Angelus. The gardener sleeps out.’

‘You’re learning.’

‘I had a strict master.’

‘You still have. For now.’

‘Billy, if you need my help, if this man has somehow got a hold over you: you know you only have to ask.’

Angelus smiled and moved up behind William, he slipped both arms around his waist and rested his chin on William’s shoulder. ‘Ever wondered what this little boy gets up to at night, Mr parson?’

‘I think I know my own son better than you do, sir, whatever you may have terrorised him into these last few months.’

‘Terrorised? Tell him, Will, how often do I beat you?’

‘Just about every night.’

‘And how often do I bugger you?’

‘Every night.’

‘And which do you prefer?’ Angelus pulled him up closer and rubbed slow but powerful against his back. William shook his head miserably. ‘And how often do you steal, or rape, or lure little children from their mothers arms at my bidding? And Will, how often do you… kill?’

William said nothing.

‘Do you want it to stop?’

There was no answer but a small whimper.

Angelus placed a gentle kiss on his neck. ‘So what do you have to say to your Daddy?’

‘Let me go,’ William said. And Angelus released his hold and took a step back. ‘Pa, do you remember when we used to sit and talk all night about the nature of faith?’ He took another step closer to his father. ‘Do you remember that? Remember how I used to love those talks. Just you and me; into the small hours sometimes, more like friends than father and son. And I used to ask you if there could ever be worthwhile belief if there was definitive proof of God. We could argue that point endlessly! Well I’ve found my proof, and faith certainly has no point anymore: because I’ve met the devil. And he’s bigger than me, and stronger, and so fast you can’t see him move; and temptation isn’t about nobly struggling to resist. It’s about a need so strong it steals your whole soul and release like nothing you’ve ever known. And I want it, Pa. I want it so badly I hurt for it all the time. And he’s the only one who can give it to me.’

The good old man only looked at him. With the sorrow welling up in his pale watery eyes and a gaze of such misery, and longing, and pity on his face that the cruellest and most iron bound soul on the earth would have paused. For seven long heartbeats he looked, then he pushed himself up from his chair and very stiffly sunk down to his knees. He bowed his head and closed his eyes. ‘Our Father, who—’

‘No!’

William and Angelus sprang at him together, but William was closest and got there first. ‘Don’t do it. Don’t!’ he yelled, even as the soft words rose up and started to pound like hammers at his brain. Angelus changed and a deep growl resonated around the room. The elderly priest stumbled and tried to begin again. William changed too then, and he snarled back at Angelus, his shoulders lifted and his head held low, but he was standing as stiff and tall as a young wolf guarding its kill. ‘Mine,’ he spat.

‘Don’t push me, whelp. My patience has been sorely tried tonight.’

‘Mine,’ William repeated.

His father’s voice quavered to a halt as he admitted the irredeemable truth of what his son had become. In the silence, Angelus returned to his beautiful human face.

‘Choose then. Only don’t let him start that cursed mumbling again.’

‘What’s this, Angelus? The gift of free will?’

‘Why not. You’ve been on a leash long enough. Time to slip your collar, I think, and see if you still come when I whistle.’

‘You bastard.’

Angelus only smiled at that.

‘What happens if I don’t?’

‘Oh no. Choice is choice, little fledgling. I’m not showing you the carrot or the stick until afterwards.’

‘Billy, you are a good man. Look in your heart and you will know the right thing to do. Listen to your conscience.’

He couldn’t see the long fangs in his son’s mouth or the cruel ridges on his brow.

‘Truly look, my boy, past what you have been told, past what you remember, look at what is really there, at what you really feel for this man.’

William looked.

And then he went over to his father and cradled him in his arms. ‘Put my hands so,’ he said, ‘and pull sharply aside and up, and turn away quickly so you can’t taste the ashes in your mouth.’ Then he bent over and kissed his father on the throat. ‘I looked, Pa. But what else could I do? I don’t have a soul any more.’

William sat back on his heels. ‘What now?’

Angelus smiled. ‘You know what happens next, Will. We find the others, keep one to invite the girls in, and deal with the rest.’

‘No, I meant about you and me. What now between us?’ He looked up at his sire. ‘Am I still your fledgling?’

‘You’re a fledgling for as long as I say so, little one. The day you’re grown up enough to be considered one of us, I’ll tell you. Now stop dawdling and go and gather some more humans, before your elders and betters start to loose patience.’

Half an hour later Angelus came into the kitchen, where William was sitting gazing morosely into space.

‘You’re in an uncommonly sulky mood tonight, Will.’

‘And you’re in an uncommonly good one, considering what’s happened.’

Angelus flicked him none too gently across the back of his head. ‘Mind your manners. I don’t justify myself to you.’

William sighed. ‘No Sire.’

‘You’ve accounted for everyone?’

‘Yes Sire.’

‘Kept one back?’

‘Yes Sire.’

‘Which?’

‘That idiot parlour-maid, Sire. She’s tied up in the broom-cupboard.’

‘Good.’ Angelus stretched his arms behind his head with a wide gaping yawn, which he changed into his demon face. ‘We’ve got at least an hour before the girls appear. Take your clothes off.’

William pushed himself wearily up and started to do so, casting a gloomy glance over the varied cooking implements the kitchen contained. It was not a good place to have been found, but he was aware that he had made his choice and this was part of it. The pain won’t last for ever, he tried to tell himself. It’s going to hurt like hell but it will pass.

Angelus was stripping off his coat and shirt as well, folding them neatly and placing them on the dresser. ‘Come here, Will.’ He placed a hand on his childe’s shoulder. ‘Suck me off, lad.’

William obediently knelt. He couldn’t help thinking about his first time. But he knew what he was doing now and he could feel his own need rising even as he serviced his sire’s. He didn’t dare touch himself though. Angelus was thrusting hard and fast and deep, and when he climaxed it was so far inside his childe that there was no risk of a drop being spilt. He pulled out quickly. ‘Stand up.’

William stood, his own erection already fully, achingly apparent. Angelus grinned and brushed it once. He too was remembering the day William had learnt to control his face. Then hastily Angelus bobbed down and enclosed it in his own mouth, changing back into his human face as he did so. William gasped in surprise as his sire worked incredibly skilfully and briskly to make him come. He couldn’t believe it: of all the things he had been dreading and expecting that had not been one of them.

The mouth withdrew from his now relaxed member. Then William felt a lazy tongue lick casually at his inner thigh. He had been gazing at the ceiling but he quickly looked down. There was another lazy lapping stroke; one that worked upwards that time, past his groin and onto the taut muscles of his stomach. His sire gradually stood up, licking slowly higher and higher in a soothing calming ascent, until he was once more towering over William. Then he nipped gently at William’s shoulder, and the young vampire at last understood what was happening. His blue eyes met the brown ones of his sire. ‘Please,’ he growled, his voice low and gravelly. ‘Oh God yes, please, Sire.’

Angelus nodded once and their fangs slid out in unison.

The master vampire reached out and took both William’s hands, interlacing their fingers; then he raised his right arm, lifting William’s left up with it. He started to trail a single fang down along the length of his childe’s radial vein, the dagger point pushing firmly, but not quite penetrating the skin. Angelus carefully raised their other hands so his own forearm was in front of William’s face, and William started to copy him.

William felt the strange gritty ripple through his sensitive fang and an answering tickling quiver in his arm. Angelus pressed harder and William returned it, starting right up on the delicate skin of the palm that time. And then abruptly Angelus raced back and returned, quick hard strokes, repeated faster and faster. So that William caught the pulse of the increasing rhythm and matched him beat for beat. He felt the tingling grow in his dead limb as the sluggish blood started to stir and flow, pushed round by the ferocious drive of the vampires’ fangs. Veins that had felt no life pass through them for an eternity of days and months, swelled and pulsed with it, throbbing and driving. Until the vampires at last carried their strokes right into the crook of their arms and bit, sucking deep with powerful pulls. Making the blood move between them then, a strong dark circulation of each other that William could feel drawing everything round from the furthest reaches of his dead limbs, in a rich swirl of lust and the stolen lives he had taken.

His family’s life force passed through and around him. His loving, fond, foolish, determined father; his over protective, nagging, adoring, oddly practical mother; his sweet, giggling baby sisters; the fat old cook who used to make him gingerbread when he was small; the pert little housemaid who had always blushed when she met him in the corridor. All passing through the dark, ancient, secret depths of his wonderful, omnipotent, all consuming sire. Angelus. His sire. Who took and overpowered them all and ground them into insignificant little specks, as individually unimportant as the dust-motes dancing in a beam of moonlight are to the moon itself.

His sire.

Angelus.

He had lost all sense of time or place when Angelus gradually began to slow the pace and they finally pulled out from each other. William found that at some stage they had sunk down to their knees, though he had no memory of it; and utterly spent he leant forward and rested his head against his sire’s broad shoulder. Angelus tilted his own head and rested his chin on his childe’s neck. Their hands were still clasped tighter than lovers. As the ringing in William’s ears faded he became aware that they were both purring. For a long time he stayed like that, feeling utterly safe and belonging.

Angelus gradually pried his fingers open one at a time and lifted up his head. ‘Come along.’ He patted him gently on the shoulder. ‘Time to get on.’

William sniffed and pulled himself up. He stood in front of his sire, head submissively lowered. ‘I belong to you, Sire,’ he stated.

‘Yes.’

‘Are you going to punish me for what I did?’

‘Do I need to?’

‘No.’ And oddly enough, at that moment, it seemed to be true.

‘Then no. Though I’ve no doubt you will be behaving like an incorrigible snotty brat again within the week.’

‘I won’t, Sire.’

‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Will.’

‘But I don’t understand: you aren’t angry any more.’

Angelus shrugged. ‘It gets repetitive after a time. Besides, having to organise all those minions was getting to be a pain. Far too much effort. I’d have probably staked them all soon anyway.’

‘But… but you’re a master vampire!’

‘Which means I’ve earned the right to do whatever I please. Doesn’t it? Anyway Dru believes it’s time to move on, and I never ignore her advice.’ This was clearly a joke. ‘Ever been to the North Country, Will?’

‘No, I don’t think so.’

‘You’ll like Yorkshire. The people are tough as leather, but their blood is strong and clean.’

‘Are there many vampires up there? Will we have to fight for a territory?’

‘A few. And no doubt you will be after getting their attention.’

‘I—’

Angelus stopped him with a kiss. ‘What did I tell you about promises, Will?’

‘Don’t make promises you won’t keep.’

‘Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep – what?’

William rolled his eyes to the ceiling. ‘Don’t make anything you don’t intend to keep, Sire.’

Running. He was running down a street of narrow, soot-blackened houses, the moonlight flashing white as it shot back and forth behind the buildings. Hard cobblestones under foot so his boots skittered and slid. He pushed himself up frantically, knees and hands skinned like a ten-year-old. He could smell the blood as he ran. Laboured breaths, panting hard, though he tried to tell himself he didn’t need to, but the habit was too strong. The houses were larger now, set further apart, but still with moonlight flashing between them. Small gardens with dull shrubs, and little iron railings along low walls separating each from the next. Each a little castle. An Englishman’s home is his castle. Lavender. He could smell lavender. His mother used to wash her hands with lavender scented soap. He’d got to move fast. Got to get to them. Warn them. It wasn’t safe. He’d got to warn them. Faster. Otherwise he would taste the ashes. Edith isn’t safe. Edith.

‘Edith!’

Angelus growled and pushed at him sleepily. ‘Shut up, boy.’

William blinked his eyes open and rolled over, snuggling back between Dru and his sire, the dream already starting to recede. Why Edith, he wondered. He’d never even particularly liked Edith. She was the youngest, silly and giggly. Always whispering behind her hand, and sticking her tongue out at him when their mother wasn’t looking. Alice had been his favourite. But then she’d been only a year older than him, his big sister and best friend. She’d got engaged to a shy young curate from Gloucestershire. He wondered if the wedding was still going ahead.

Angelus poked him again. ‘Keep still or get out.’

William slipped off the bed where the four of them were tangled together and padded softly over to the window. He peered cautiously out past the curtains. It was still daylight, but a dark grey, rainy light, that washed the blackened houses to an oily sheen as the rain drummed down. Everything was black here. The houses, the trees, even the people seemed to have the smoke of the factories ingrained in their skins. The place had changed since Angelus and Darla had been there before, so they said. It was noisier now, ruled by the factory whistle and the stamp of hard clogs tramping on the stone paved streets.

William got dressed quietly so as not to disturb the others. They had paid a small fortune to the manager of the grubby little hotel to be left alone during the day and they had been able to afford only the one room. Apparently Darla and Dru had been chased from the London house before they managed to save much money, only just making it out of the back window in time. Darla hadn’t been too pleased about that, but Angelus seemed to find it funny. He’d told them William had already been disciplined, and though Darla seemed sceptical she hadn’t questioned it. She had barely spoken two words to William since they came north.

William sneaked out of the room and went downstairs. The owlish reception-clerk, perched on a high stool and reading a battered novel, looked up when he came down. William leant on the little counter until the man removed the cigarette from his lips with yellow stained fingers. ‘Can I help you?’

In reaction to the man’s flat, northern working-class tones, William unthinkingly slipped into the accent he had always used when talking with cook or the gardener. ‘Can I ’ave one of those, mate?’ The man looked resentful but took out his pouch and papers, and slowly started to roll William a cigarette. William watched. ‘There a baccy shop round ’ere?’

‘Down road.’

‘I’ll get yer a few some other time, then, mate.’

‘Hmmph,’ the clerk said, and passed him the completed cigarette. William fished in his pocket for a box of matches, and then lounged against the counter, quietly smoking, watching the rain. The clerk turned back to his book. ‘Staying long?’ he asked offhandedly, after a while.

‘Dunno. Not my decision.’

‘Ah. Business is it?’

‘Somethin’ like that.’ He ground out the fag end and wandered over to the street door, leaning against the jam, looking out.

‘Shop’s just down road,’ the clerk said again.

William rubbed his finger under his nose thoughtfully, glancing up at the sky. Then he abruptly pulled up the collar of his jacket, hunched his shoulders, and ran out.

It was light enough to make him feel oddly exposed, but not enough to hurt him. The rain started to trickle down his neck. Have to get a neck-scarf, he thought. Winter would be coming soon. A red scarf maybe. Like a gypsy. It wouldn’t show the blood.

He kept his head lowered, hands deep in his pockets, but eyes carefully scanning the streets, trying to assess the few people that hurried past. He frowned. Angelus always seemed to be able to identify human types in a few seconds, could work out their entire background seemingly at a glance, knowing if it was safe to hunt them and the best way to lure them somewhere quiet. William eyed a woman: in her twenties, long black raincoat, grey hat pulled low, no umbrella. He tried to work out whom she must be, where she could be going. No umbrella, he thought, so she must be poor. Or stupid, or careless, or forgetful, or she’d lent it to a friend, or she wasn’t going far… The raincoat told him nothing other than that she had one. The hat was too wet for him to tell if it was good quality or not. He followed her for two streets, and then she disappeared into a house.

He thought about trying to wangle an invitation, but knew he wasn’t up to it. What could he say that would make them let in a wet stranger with a funny southern accent?

He walked on. He knew what he wanted: a nice fat, rich kill, with plenty of money in his purse; so he could get himself some smokes and give the rest to Angelus to pay for a better hotel room. But suitable people just didn’t seem to be wandering around in the rain with a paper label round their neck saying ‘kill me’. And the few people who were out hurried on about their own business. The main streets were too populous, the side streets were totally deserted, or over-looked so he could not be certain he wouldn’t be seen. There must be quiet spots somewhere, but he didn’t know where they were.

He went up to a thin man with a small dog on a rope. ‘Nice dog, mate. What’s his name?’

‘Spike,’ the man said, and gave him a funny look as he hurried past.

‘Got the time on yer?’ William called after him. The man didn’t answer.

‘Bloody hell.’ He started to admit to himself that he didn’t have the faintest idea what he was doing. He lashed out angrily at an innocent lamppost, drawing blood, but only his own. ‘Bloody sodding hell.’ He was going to have to go home, and he was more cross and embarrassed about it than anything else.

He found himself outside the tobacconists, so he shoved the door open and went in. ‘Packet of twist,’ he said. ‘And some papers.’

The shop-man slapped them down on the counter. ‘Owt else?’

William looked at the cheap tobacco, his hand in his pocket fingering the only coin he had, a battered farthing he’d picked off the street a week ago. The man hadn’t called him Sir. He had never in his life not been addressed as Sir in a shop. ‘And a box of matches, mate.’ The shop-man turned away again and William reached out, picked up the things, and walked out of the shop. He heard a cry of annoyance as the door shut behind him, and the tinkle of the bell as it was wrenched open again. He ran away down the street.

He stopped under the towering archway of the railway viaduct, a satisfied grin on his face, and started to make himself another cigarette. It was an open place, barely cover at all, with the rain driving in to form a little rivulet down the centre of the path that passed through underneath; but it offered some shelter and the nearest houses were out of sight behind overgrown bushes. It smelt of coal dust and the rich damp earth. Little rusty-backed ferns grew in the cracks of the stonework and amongst a pile of rubble that someone had dumped against one wall.

A few minutes later a young couple rushed up, hand in hand, laughing as they shot in, out of the rain. The girl smiled at him; but the man frowned when he saw they weren’t alone. He led her over to the far side of the archway and brushed a few stones clean so she could sit down. William watched them, then sauntered over. ‘Want a smoke?’ he offered. The man looked him up and down, then nodded. Nobody suggested that the girl should have one. Nice girls didn’t smoke in public.

William looked out in both directions. ‘You think it’s goin’ to stop soon, then?’ he asked.

‘Happen,’ the man replied laconically.

William frowned at the unfamiliar expression then shook his head, and ripped the fellow’s throat open. He gulped a fair bit of blood before dropping the man because the girl had started to scream. He jumped at her, and after a bit of fumbling managed to snap her neck. He felt a tugging at his ankle. The man was trying to pull himself up, blood still gushing from his neck wound to fall down and mingle with the greasy trickle of water that had collected under the viaduct. William kicked him so he rolled off into the mud and lay writhing at his feet. Pulling the man back up, William wiped the filth away from the wound and started to drink again. There was blood all over his hands now though, and the man was still struggling. The blood sprayed out from the artery, spattering across William’s face, until at last William managed to fasten on again and catch it as it pumped out. He sucked hard, draining the man dry so he soon fell limp, and William could hear his heart beat start to slow and finally, with one last timid thump, it stopped altogether. The man hung lifeless in his arms.

William dropped him and ran the back of his hand across his face. He saw the blood and licked it off, rubbed again and started to wash his face like a cat, repeatedly rubbing and licking until he could smell that he was clean, looking down at the couple the while. It was a pity about the girl: he could have happily drunk from both, but he didn’t fancy sucking the blood cold, and he hadn’t brought a bottle to drain some into to keep for later. He wondered what to do with the bodies.

There was a roaring rumble as a train shot by overhead. Why couldn’t that have come earlier, he thought, he needn’t have killed the girl then, with the sound to cover her screams and give him a little more time. He must try and remember that for next time. Though he was dully aware that if it had been Angelus there, then he would have thought of it to start with.

Never mind that. He’d just killed properly; without Angelus. Without Dru, even. He’d just done it all by himself. The grin came back.

He reached down and searched through the man’s pockets, the grin getting broader when he found a heap of coins. Friday: the man had just been paid. The rain was easing off and the pubs would be open in a few minutes. He gave one last quick scrub at his face, stuck his hands in his pockets, and strolled off whistling. Angelus and Dru were going to be so proud of him! Even Darla might look pleased for once. But first, it was going to be, William had decided, one hell of an evening.

He came back at three in the morning and was let in by the drowsy night porter, who gave him a funny look because of what he was carrying.

Upstairs, William stuck his head cautiously round the door, and sidled into the room, moving as quietly as he could manage so as not to disturb the sleeping vampire on the bed. He peered down at her for a second then went back outside for a moment, and returned with an armful of things, which he unloaded beside the hearth. Still as silently as possible, he heaped fresh coal into the grate and stirred it about with the poker until there was a comfortable warm glow, then he settled down cross-legged and started to work.

A few minutes later Dru stirred, and her nose twitched as she scented the air. ‘William, what are you doing?’

‘Here, Princess, try this.’ He picked up the golden fragrant offering and placed it reverently between her lips.

She looked sleepily startled and then a small smile drifted across her face. ‘It’s nice.’

‘Too many people,’ he said, ‘underestimate the importance in life of hot buttered toast.’

He took the next slice off the toasting fork, replaced it with a fresh piece of bread which he dextrously propped on the bars of the grate to cook, and then started to butter the finished one with expert flicks of his wrist. ‘The skill,’ he explained, ‘is to get a steady production going. So that one slice is toasting whilst you are eating the last. Modern methods, you see.’ He passed her up another piece whilst crunching into his own.

Dru carefully licked the butter off her fingers. ‘My mummy used to put jam on.’

‘We have jam!’ he said triumphantly. ‘Blackberry or,’ he peered at the jar, ‘storeberry? Must mean strawberry. Can’t read the writing. No spoon, though, have to use the knife blade.’ He ladled out a dollop of jam with the penknife he was using and smeared it about on his own piece. ‘Which flavour, love?’

‘What’s strawberry?’

He looked at her, astonished. ‘Strawberries. You must remember strawberries, Princess. Red. Shaped like hearts, with little pips spotted like tears all over ’em. Taste of hot summer days and boating parties and croquet on the lawn.’ He shut his eyes and lay back on the hearth-rug. ‘The sun warm on your skin and the grasshoppers chirping in the long grass and swifts weaving patterns against a sky so blue you could drown in it. And time just seems to stop as if you will live for ever in only that moment.’ He sat up. ‘Strawberries. Here, try one.’ He speared a gloopy half berry out of the jam on the knife point and held it up for her pretty pink tongue to dart out and taste.

She wrinkled her nose. ‘Sticky.’

‘Yeh.’ He sighed. ‘Don’t taste as good as I remember, either. Nothing much does.’ He took another crunchy bite of toast, holding the slice between his teeth as he picked up the toasting fork and, hissing at burnt fingers, turned the bread round to cook the other side. He removed the slice from his mouth and wiped a dribble of butter off his chin. ‘Doesn’t mean we should give up trying though.’

‘Another,’ Dru demanded, pointing to the pot of strawberry jam. He fished about until he managed to catch another large lump. Dru came and sat down beside him, taking the strawberry whole with a delicate snap of her white teeth.

‘Can I have blood on my toast?’ she asked.

‘Don’t see why not.’ He nicked his finger and let a few crimson drops splash onto the gleaming butter. ‘Where’re Sire and Her Nibs?’

Dru giggled. ‘Went hunting.’

‘Didn’t you want to go?’

She shook her head. ‘Tired. And my head was all achy.’

‘Was it, love? Poor you.’ He handed her the freshest slice and started to hack another off the loaf.

‘Daddy missed you. You were supposed to go out with him. He had to go with Darla instead, so he said he’s going to hurt you when he gets back.’

‘Wonders will never cease.’

‘But Darla said he couldn’t because the hotel people would get suspicious if you couldn’t move about properly.’

‘Really! You think I’m in with a chance then?’

Dru swirled more blood into a circular pattern on her toast with the knife. ‘So then Daddy said he would burn your hands with the poker. He said that wouldn’t be noticeable if he made you wear gloves.’

William looked at the poker thoughtfully, then got up and hid it in the back of the cupboard. ‘Why do they care so much about the hotel staff?’

‘Don’t know. Can I try a blackberry, please.’

‘Of course.’ He opened the second pot, exclaimed in mild annoyance, and scraped a generous dollop off the top, flicking it to the back of the fire, where it hissed and spat. He sniffed the pot cautiously. ‘The top bit’s gone mouldy.’ He tasted a morsel. ‘Seems all right. We’ll risk it. It’s not as if we’re going to get upset stomachs.’ He paused. ‘Is it?’

She shook her head and held out her tongue; he dropped a gobbet on and she tilted her head back and let it slither down her throat, giggling. He repeated the process, then sniffed questioningly and swore, because the toast had started to burn. He quickly retrieved it, juggling and yelping as it singed his fingers. Dru laughed out loud.

‘S’not funny.’

‘Tis,’ she hiccuped.

‘Tisn’t.’

‘Tis.’

‘Shan’t give you any more then.’ He pouted, scraping the burnt bits off.

‘Aw, William.’ She snuggled up against him. ‘Pleeeeease.’

He smiled and popped another bit into her mouth. ‘Guess what I did today, Dru.’

She pondered for a while. ‘Went to market and bought a pet cormorant?’

‘No!’ He choked on his final bite of toast. ‘Much more exciting than that, I made my first—’

‘Daddy!’

There was a sound from outside. William took in the mess they had made and quickly pushed it all out of sight behind a chair; dropping the carpet back over the last crumbs just as Angelus and Darla climbed in through the window.

‘There you are, you little mongrel.’

William quickly scampered over across the bed, and tried to keep it between them whilst Angelus shouted.

‘I’m going to skin you alive! And I am not talking figuratively.’

‘I’m already dead.’

‘You insolent— I’m going to—’

Darla snorted. ‘Well it would make a nice change if you did, Angelus. Only you can’t, we need him fit.’

‘Just you watch me. The whole town is in turmoil because a courting couple was found murdered tonight. And a stranger with blood on his clothes was seen in several of the pubs.’

‘Nothing to do with me, Angelus.’

‘If you’ve made them find us again—’

‘Leave me alone!’

‘Oh, I’ll leave you alone! You were supposed to come with me, boy. I was going to show you a bit of proper hunting, for a change. We were going to kill that fat mill-owner’s pretty daughter together.’

William’s mouth dropped. ‘But you never said.’

Angelus’s growl shook the room. ‘And since when do I explain myself to you?’

‘Angelus,’ Darla said urgently, ‘if it wasn’t him, then there must be other vampires in the town after all, and we need to be more discreet than ever. Keep your voice down.’

‘Keep your own damn voice down.’ He couldn’t get past her so he hurled the water jug across at William, who ducked. ‘You brat. I told you never to go out without my permission. Never. Jesus, Mary and Joseph what do I have to do to get that through to you?’

‘Why didn’t you tell me!’

There was a hammering at the door. ‘What is going on in there?’

Angelus suddenly went icy cold and calm. He stalked over to the door and swung it open, looking down at the angry hotel owner who was standing there in his night-shirt.

‘However upset you are, sir, please consider my other guests.’

Angelus shut the door in his face and turned back to William, who took one look and dived under the bed. ‘I didn’t go out,’ he yelled.

There was a pause. ‘Come out of there, you little tyke.’

‘No! Not till you calm down. I haven’t been out of this stinking hotel all night.’

‘He’s fed, that’s for certain.’

‘Yes, because I had some in my flask left from last night. That’s all.’

‘What flask?’

‘I left it downstairs.’

There was a disbelieving snort. ‘Well if you do have a flask, I’m confiscating it for a start. Now come out of there.’

‘No.’ William could see a large pair of shoes, one tapping impatiently against the floor. ‘I was waiting all night for you to come and tell me it was time to go out. Why didn’t you tell me last night if we were going somewhere special?’ he wailed. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘Don’t try it, boy. I know you weren’t here. Do you think I didn’t look? I trust my own eyes, damn you.’

‘Well you can’t have looked very well, because I was talking to the doorman or trying to get warm in the kitchen.’

A pair of black clad knees appeared in William’s line of sight, and an arm swept out, making a grab for him. He scrabbled back as far out of reach as possible. A yellow eye appeared.

‘Did you even look in the kitchen?’ he shouted at it.

‘Surely you can tell if he’s been out or not,’ Darla’s voice came.

‘All I can smell is those damn cigarettes he’s for ever puffing on,’ Angelus growled. ‘And,’ he sniffed in confusion, ‘toast?’ The eye vanished. ‘Who’s been cooking toast?’

‘I have. Me and Dru. Whilst I was out on the town of course,’ William said with heavy sarcasm.

There was a snort of impatience. ‘Is this true, Drusilla?’

William waited an anxious few seconds.

‘William gave me jam, Daddy.’

There was a long silence, and then the sound of heavy footsteps walking away across the room. William dropped his head back on his arm and closed his eyes in relief. It was a full minute before he realised that he would never be able to tell anybody about his first lone kill.

Another town. Another cramped hotel room.

Lodging houses would have been pleasanter, or the old trick of taking over a private residence. But lodging houses demanded money in advance and had inquisitive landladies, who questioned why they didn’t go out during the day or ask for meals to be included. While the elder vampires didn’t want to get involved in the business of finding a house until they had chosen somewhere they wished to settle. And there was always something wrong with every place they went: too small, too dirty, too ugly. The small towns wouldn’t provide them with a reliable food source; large ones already had resident vampires. And without the minions they couldn’t take on an established gang. So they moved.

William told himself he didn’t care; he had found a new interest which he could satisfy anywhere. Pubs. Noisy, crowded, packed with sweating, stinking, singing humanity. A hundred hearts pumping blood through a million miles of vein. The clouds of excitement, anger, pleasure, arousal clinging to him like the fine northern mists. William liked pubs.

He’d spent a lot of time in them, one way and another. Buy a man a drink and he will tell you his name. Buy him three and you’ll get his life story. Ten and he’ll let you walk him home and never notice when you drag him into a darkened doorway and get all the alcohol back out of his bloodstream. William really liked pubs.

The weather had turned bad, with heavy downpours and thickly overcast autumn skies every day. The older vampires still slept during the daylight, but William started to sneak out on a regular basis, returning at owl hoot just as the others were beginning to stir. He would breeze back in claiming to have been just having an early evening smoke in the lobby. And since Darla didn’t like him smoking in their room (although he had noticed that she never complained about Angelus’s cigars) they could hardly quibble, while the stench of tobacco hid where else he had been.

Not that he actually hunted; the risk was too great and a little something at the back of his mind warned him not to push his luck. It would be a tricky business to pick his prey amongst all those watching eyes, he somehow never quite felt up to it; not without the reassuring presence of Angelus across the room, pointing him towards the best choice and ready to step in if he made some blunder. But he did just about everything else he could think of.

And he needed something because Angelus was working him close to breaking.

From the moment the sun set, until the last rosy fingered second before it bobbed back above the horizon, the four of them were busy. Early evenings were for hunting, but this was not hunting like William had been taught before.

Then he had learnt to love the thrill of the chase, the unpredictable twists and turns of bringing a human to bay in some remote spot and softening them up for a leisurely kill. Or the brutal struggles and wild climbing and hiding involved in taking one home unseen, but still alive, for the larder. Now all chasing and playing was expressly forbidden. Instead each subject had to be chosen with exquisite care, assessed as to whether they could be taken without anyone noticing their absence, wooed and bedazzled into some quiet place, all without alarming them, and then swiftly and silently despatched with a neck twist. And there was to be no more than one kill between the four of them once every third night; an inviolable rule to avoid attracting attention.

But without local knowledge, and forced away from the best hunting grounds, killing anything was increasingly hard. So they went out in pairs to maximise their chances, William and Drusilla being sent with Angelus or Darla alternately. And the second a kill had been made the younger vampire had to fetch the other two. Then they all fed in turn, draining the corpse dry and not even saving any in a container for later, since it wasn’t safe to carry blood: the smell would attract other demons like flies to rotting fruit.

William never ran so fast as when he was sent to fetch the others, knowing that as the youngest he would have to wait until last for his turn to feed, holding his aching stomach and trying not to make a fuss while his elders took forever to finish. Anxious not to waste a second before the first few drops of already cold and congealing blood could finally be slipping down his throat. William, for the first time ever, discovered what real Hunger meant.

This was not just a small pain to be thoughtlessly eased by strolling down to the kitchen for the biscuit or slice of bread that was always available. This was a constant, mind filling, gnawing ache, with him every minute of every day, until he wanted to cry it made him so desperate. They frequently didn’t eat for day and days at a time – apart from a few sheep up on the moors, which had made the district rife with tales of a vicious pack of dogs or, more amusingly, a giant wild cat that stalked the hills at dusk. But the animal blood didn’t satisfy, and William sometimes, when he found himself alone, would clutch his hands to his stomach and rock back and forth, keening to himself, trying to lull away the need. Not that it actually helped.

The hunger took them all differently. William found it made him miserably desperate, cold, reckless, wild but careless; so he killed faster and more easily than ever, but kept making silly mistakes which he thought he had grown out of. Darla, oddly enough, became almost girlish, as if it was reminding her of a fledglinghood long past. Her sharp tongue and disapproving attitude remained the same though. Dru was the least changed. A little more obscure perhaps, inclined to snap suddenly from too quiet to too violent, but she could just have been going into one of her periodic moods.

Angelus grew dour, withdrawn and indifferent, his entire energy focused on the hunt. He seemed to take a perverse delight in the difficulties involved, as if he welcomed the challenging complexities of their insecure position. But he no longer explained what he was doing. When set to hunt with him, William was expected to keep his mouth shut and his eyes and ears open, and do what he was told instantly without questioning. If he made a mistake, or hesitated, Angelus would wordlessly drive a powerful fist straight into his stomach. The first time it just winded him for a second or two; but when it was happening five times a night, every night, it soon became so painful that he would be left gasping on the ground, before being hoisted up unforgivingly and made to continue. ‘Concentrate,’ Angelus said, when William was foolish enough to complain. ‘This is your business now, it’s high time you started to learn it properly.’

And there was a lot of business to learn.

After a kill had been achieved, or the fatal hour of twelve reached and none made, the rest of the night would be spent in scouting the area. This was if anything more exhausting than hunting. Vampires are predators, and like all predators William was accustomed to spending long periods lounging around doing very little. He found that he was fast and strong, but just not designed for steady slow work. Resting, though, was no longer an option. Every building, every street, each field, wood or expanse of open moorland, had to be scoured for demon sign; until William’s nose actually ached from sniffing for blood or spore and his eyes were swimming from peering for the faint trails where demons might have passed.

The signs seemed logical enough when Angelus or Darla was there to show him, but as soon as he was alone and faced with an entire field or street by himself then everything just looked indistinguishable. Time and again he would think he had found something, and ran a mile or so to fetch one of the older vampires for confirmation, only to have his discovery curtly dismissed as an animal track or, even more embarrassingly, something left by humans. While he would have walked right past a trail that they spotted straight away. And yet if he didn’t move fast enough to cover his allotted ground, or tried to catch even a short break, there would be hell to pay.

Angelus’s comments on his failings became more and more sarcastic, until William could only glare with sullen eyes and clenched fists. He tried asking for more help, and got sneered at for being a dunce. He suggested he concentrate on the few things he was good at, and was accused of trying to shirk. He lost his temper and shouted, and Angelus just walked away with a contemptuous look.

William was damned if he was going to beg.

He wasn’t a fool, he knew what was going on: four selfish, arrogant, heartless demons were being driven into far too close a proximity with each other, without enough of the one thing that made their existence worthwhile. And they were all too proud to admit that it had been a mistake to come north at all.

The exception, of course, was Darla, who never missed an opportunity to point out that she hadn’t wanted to leave London in the first place. Dru was maintaining that she had never suggested it either. ‘I saw what was going to happen. I never said it would be a nice treat,’ she said. William tried to reply that he was just doing what he was told. But he knew perfectly well that it was his behaviour which had forced them to go. And Angelus had found a simple way out of evading the responsibility: he blamed William.

So every day William collapsed exhausted asleep with an aching hollow in his belly and a cold shoulder from his sire, only to wake early and sneak out again to try and snatch a few brief hours of enjoyment before the grind began once more.

So what if it left him more tired at the end of the night? Or if the strength of a vampire constitution meant he had to drink twice as much as a human would to get drunk? He beat up passers-by in the streets for their money; and drank three times as much to make certain. And he couldn’t care less if he spent the later part of the night with a raging hangover.

If there weren’t pubs open early enough, and as the evenings were drawing in it became harder to find any, then he bought or stole gin where he could and swigged it lurking in some convenient outhouse or barn.

He got away with it for seventeen days.

It was the ever fickle weather which finally caught him out: changing from an overcast afternoon to a briefly glorious evening of sunshine, that bathed the little mill town in a warm, rosy glow and brought the scent of heather and hill thyme rolling in off the moors. He cursed the sun from his hiding place in somebody’s coal shed, and counted down the minutes until it dipped at last behind the peaks. Then he ran like the wind.

But Angelus was waiting for him.

There was no hope of lying his way out this time. Angelus grabbed him by the scruff and bent him over the table. Then the belt came out, and William’s world narrowed to a fiery, red fog of hammering cracks that made every muscle in his body arch against the hard wood and a wave of pain under which he writhed, yelped, and howled like a young tom cat.

It was only when he was hauled back up and thrown half way across the room that he realised Darla and Dru had both witnessed his humiliation.

Darla just smirked and stepped round him, but it was Dru he was looking at. Her expression was one of hatred, pure and simple. ‘How dare you defy Daddy. How dare you!’

‘Dru, I—’

‘You were supposed to be my knight and save me from the dragon, and all you do is scoff the plum pudding and say there aren’t any currants!’ She spat on him and flew down with nails flailing, spewing out curses.

He threw his arms up in defence, yelling back, ‘Get off. Get her off me.’

Neither Darla nor Angelus did anything.

‘Damn you, Sire! I’m not taking this!’ He started to hit her back, until they rolled and scrabbled across the floor and into the hallway in a ball of spitting demonic rage. She was older than he was, and stronger, but he was reckless with hunger and not a little drunk, and his response must have taken her by surprise. Either that or it was blind luck that led to him suddenly finding himself sitting on top of her and banging her head repeatedly against the scuffed, wooden floorboards. ‘You bitch. You little bitch. I don’t take orders from anybody. Not Sire, not Darla, and certainly not you, do you hear!’ He backhanded her across the mouth and changed into his demon face with a snarl. ‘Do you hear?’ He opened his throat to roar and was hit by the reek of her scent and saw the vast black pupils blazing in their golden rings up at him. Opening wider and wider for him every time he hit her. With a throaty rumble between a purr and a growl, Dru lunged up towards him, and locked her deep fanged mouth onto his own. He bruised it back, reaching down with one hand to yank her skirts roughly up, and thrusting in underneath. He suddenly couldn’t care less about the emptiness in his belly, because Dru was screaming with ecstasy every time he drove viciously into her, and shuddering with pleasure as he gouged his nails through her blackening skin. And with a bellow he bit down upon her gleaming-white neck and sucked her blood straight from the artery, until she swooned under him as they came together.

He pulled out from her limp body and pushed himself to stand, his face returning to the likeness of a flawless young man. There was the sound of a slow handclap behind him. ‘Bravo. William’s finally worked out what makes Dru happy.’

‘Yeh. Should have known I was being too gentle with her. I see what you mean about her being a good lay, Angelus.’

‘And how, exactly, were you thinking of explaining your behaviour to them?’

‘Who?’ He turned; and for the first time took in the hotel manager, the porter, and a chambermaid, staring aghast, with the freckle-faced young boots peering round from behind them.

‘I know you like an audience when you’re letting yourself go, boy; but I do wish you wouldn’t do these things in front of the staff.’

‘And just when we had found somewhere worth staying,’ Darla remarked, as she started to snap necks.

William barked back, ‘Well at least it means we get a decent bloody meal for once,’ and joined in.

‘That,’ Angelus said conversationally, ‘is the only reason you are still alive.’

They started to eat until they were so stuffed they felt they would never feed again.

William looked up at one point, and saw Angelus holding Dru and peering down at the fresh bite mark on her throat. ‘It wasn’t my fault,’ she said in her tiniest, most girlish voice. ‘I tried to stop him. And I didn’t know he was going to steal the tarts, Daddy.’

‘I know, precious,’ Angelus said flatly. He frowned and bent over her, licking the bite scrupulously clean. ‘Is that better?’ She nodded. ‘I was a bit surprised you let him get the better of you, though.’

She snickered and looked down. He tapped her sharply on the nose. ‘Whose?’

She stretched up and whispered something in his ear, and he nodded and grabbed her mouth with his own, giving her a long, lingering kiss. ‘Go and feed now, my girl,’ he said at last. She beamed up at him and skipped off happily.

Angelus glanced across and caught William watching him. He gave his childe a broad wink, then turned back to the feast. William eyed him for a bit longer, before cautiously beginning to feed again.

By the time they had moved their bags into the latest new hotel room in the latest new town, William was starting to cast distinctly uneasy glances in Angelus’s direction.

Dru had abruptly begun to sway and then drifted into a fit of the giggles about half an hour previously, and she kept looking at first William and then Angelus and bursting out in great snorts of laughter. It was probable she had seen something, but whatever it was she was keeping it to herself.

‘Darla,’ Angelus said. ‘Why don’t you sit in the comfortable chair? You look tired, my love.’

‘I’m fine, Angelus,’ she replied; but she went and sat down.

Angelus was rummaging around in the small bag that contained their few possessions. ‘Where is that box of matches? I’m sure we had a box left.’ William quickly produced one and Angelus got the fire going. He piled it up high, carefully manipulating the lumps of coal with the short poker until they were in a perfect cone that channelled the air upwards, and soon a cheerful glow bathed the room.

‘Very well.’ Angelus stood up, tapping the poker thoughtfully against the palm of his hand. ‘My love, I think you will agree that we can manage without William’s services for a day or two.’

Darla nodded and watched languidly as her darling set the poker carefully down, walked over, and laid a light hand on William’s shoulder.

‘Demon face,’ Angelus instructed, and William slid his sabre fangs smoothly out. ‘Good boy. Now…’ The big vampire brought up his forefinger and pressed it against the needle sharp tip of the upper right canine, sending a little thrill up into William’s skull. The numerous nerves and thick muscle attachment that allowed him to extend and withdraw his fangs meant that they were very sensitive to the slightest pressure, it was one of the things that made feeding so pleasurable.

‘What’s this?’ Angelus asked, holding out his finger for inspection. A ruby bright bead of blood glinted on the tip.

‘Your blood, Sire.’

‘Exactly. Mine.’ Angelus licked the finger clean. ‘And what is this?’ He flicked the same finger out sharply against a small graze William had picked up on his forehead, releasing another bead of blood, which he held in front of his childe’s eyes.

William wasn’t a fool. ‘Your blood, Sire.’

‘Good. Mine. And this?’ A crusting fleck of Drusilla’s, that time, still clinging to William’s cheek.

‘Your blood, Sire.’

‘Very good, William. It’s mine. So you grasp the concept of ownership. Now, you just need to be taught a little respect for my property.’ Angelus took out the belt. ‘Hold your hands out.’ He looped the strap over William’s wrists, hauling it tight and crossing it over several times until both hands were tied firmly together. William swallowed nervously and Angelus gave him a reassuring smile. ‘Won’t take long, Will.’

He reached down and gripped something he had dropped into his pocket whilst looking for the matches.

‘Drusilla, will you come and hold William’s head for me.’

Dru must have been right behind him because he immediately felt her pinion his head between her long white fingers, tilting it slightly back so he was gazing right into his sire’s face. Angelus reached out quickly and dug the thumb and forefinger of one hand into his cheeks, which made him open his mouth, like a pet about to be given a dose of medicine. Then Angelus’s other hand flashed across, and he felt a grating against his fang. A violent push. A wrenching, twisting pull. And he bucked out of Dru’s grip and started to scream and scream and scream, until his lungs felt as if they were hurling his heart up out of his chest. Blood was pouring out of his mouth and a black curtain seemed to have crashed down over his vision. He was unaware that Darla had taken the round eyed Dru by the hand and led her straight out of the door. He didn’t see Angelus quickly pocket the tooth and toss the pliers back into the bag; or feel him pull off the restraining strap and kick it out of sight under the bed. All he could do was scream and scream. Shrill and terror filled as a rabbit caught in a gin trap. And beat his hands against his head to try and tear the pain out. And scream. And scream. And scream. And scream.

‘William. William, stop. Change back.’ Angelus grabbed him and held his arms again. ‘You’ve got to change back, Will. Listen to me. Will!’ Angelus was glaring at him with anxious intensity. ‘Human face. Show me your human face. Damn it, boy, that’s an order!’ He straightened up with relief. ‘Good boy. Clever boy. That’s my clever Will.’

William was white faced and immobile for a few terrible seconds, staring up at the man in front of him. The man who was rubbing his fingers reassuringly against William’s arms as he held them. Then William sobbed, and buried his face against the only comfort on offer: his sire’s shoulder.

And Angelus’s strong arms wrapped him round.

‘It’s all right, Will. I’ve got you. I’m here. I’ve got you, little one.’ He kissed the top of his head.

For the first time since he had been made, William let the tears stream down his face unchecked.

‘Hush, I’ve got you, little one. I’ve got you. There, there. It’s all over now. All done. Hush now. Hush.’ Angelus cradled him, rocking him back and forth.

‘It hurts,’ William choked out between sobs.

‘I know. I know it does, Will. I know.’ Rocking and soothing. ‘You’ll be all right, little one. I’ve got you. Sire’s got you.’ He began to steer him over to the bed, still holding him tight. Then he gently sat him down and slid up beside him, an arm round his shoulder the while. He kissed him again. ‘All over, little one. I’ve got you.’

‘Will it grow back?’ William asked desperately.

‘Hush. Of course it will grow back. It’s only a baby tooth. Six months and you won’t even know it was ever gone.’ He joggled his shoulder with an encouraging pat. ‘Do you think I’d ever do anything to mar my beautiful little boy?’

William let out another big sob. ‘No.’ He burrowed back into the nest of his sire’s chest. ‘But it hurts.’

Angelus squeezed his hand. ‘Yes, little one. I know. I know it does. Hush now. Hush, baby. Hush.’ Another kiss. ‘Shhshh.’ He rocked him again, lulling him, the flow of soothing words and a quiet reassuring purr coming all the time, until William’s tears slowed into exhausted stillness.

‘Do you want to go to bed now?’

William nodded miserably.

‘Come along then.’ Angelus stood him up and started to unbutton his clothes for him, only slightly hampered because William wouldn’t let go of his hand. William was somehow got undressed and into a soft warm night-shirt, then his sire scooped him up in his arms and laid him in the middle of the bed, tucking the blankets round him before sitting down himself, resting against the head-board with one knee drawn up. William curled up right against Angelus’s thigh, whimpering and still holding tightly onto his sire’s hand. Angelus started to soothe his hair, quieting him further. ‘There you are, little one, my little Will. Sleep now. I’m here. Sleep now. I’ve got you. Your sire’s got you. You’re my little one and I’ll look after you.’ He bent down and planted one final kiss on William’s cheek as the miserable fledgling at last drifted into the peace of sleep.

‘I’ve got you,’ Angelus said.

William spent the next two days in bed. His face was swollen, black and puffy. Dru seemed overawed by what had happened and was keeping her distance. Even Angelus was quieter than usual. He seemed happy though, as if William’s panic stricken acceptance of him had somehow replenished his self-belief, which had been so badly damaged by their failure to establish a new territory. He babied his fledgling, cuddling him close or making gentle love to him. William cried a lot, and made a fuss every time Angelus went out of the room. Oddly enough, it was Darla who finally pulled him round.

On the third evening after it had happened she came and sat down on the bed beside him. ‘How are you feeling, William?’

He rubbed his fist across his scowling eyes and didn’t answer.

She sighed. ‘Open up.’ He wouldn’t, so she slapped him lightly on the back of the head. ‘I said, open up.’ Gently but firmly she tilted his chin to catch more light and peered into his mouth. Then she stuck her finger in.

‘Ow,’ he said, as she poked what felt like a huge gap where his tooth had been. ‘Ow!’

She let him go. ‘Angelus, come here.’ She took out a very small penknife and sliced her childe’s wrist. Angelus gave a slight yelp – of surprise as much as anything. ‘Why are men such babies?’ Darla said in exasperation. ‘Drink, William.’

It was a close run thing as to who of the men looked more stunned. After a second, though, William fastened on. He suckled noisily, worrying at the sides of the wound with his lips and tongue, but not using his remaining fangs, while Angelus stood there looking embarrassed. Then Darla said, ‘You forgot to change,’ so matter-of-factly that he slipped into his true face without thinking about it.

‘That’s enough, William,’ she said after a while. ‘Now get up and make yourself useful.’ And she rose and walked away from them.

William blinked twice. Then got up.

‘William, you will come with me tonight,’ Darla instructed as they prepared to leave for the hunt.

William stopped dead. ‘I want to go with Sire.’

‘I think he should go with me this evening, Darla, don’t you?’

Darla shot Angelus a look. ‘You may have achieved what you wanted to, my boy. I have not. He is coming with me.’

Angelus was about to say something else, when she growled. Very low and very quiet but definitely a growl. He looked away and scratched his nose casually, as if it wasn’t really anything important to him after all.

‘Come along, Dru. Let’s go and try up by the Municipal Library.’ They left.

William found himself looking at the matriarch of the family.

‘If you carry on like this, William, you are going to end up as crazy as Drusilla. Do you want that?’

‘No,’ he whispered.

‘It frightens you doesn’t it: the thought that he might drive you mad.’

‘Yes.’

‘Then I suggest you pull yourself together and there won’t be any need to worry about it.’

He frowned; and, as she walked away without waiting to see if he was following, he made a contemptuous gesture at her departing back.

He seemed to bounce back remarkably quickly after that. He was still quiet for a day or two, but then one evening he whispered something to Dru which set her off into a fit of giggles, and by the end of the night he was showing off and balancing along the top of a narrow wall as they walked home. The night after that Angelus had had to cuff him three times before they even left the building.

It was soon almost as if nothing had happened, except that everybody’s mood was suddenly more optimistic; and William developed the irritating habit of sucking at the gap where his tooth had been. He was also made to sleep between Angelus and Darla, which meant he couldn’t get out of bed in the middle of the day without one of them noticing to fetch him back. They had to do so on a regular basis.

They finally managed to find a suitable place to settle. It was a medium sized town, striving to grow so fast that there was a constant stream of incomers and a lot of people barely had time to speak to their neighbours. Besides, there was an inherent belief in ‘civic duty’, which had produced violent internal schisms over every topic from the municipal sewage works to the colour of the bedding scheme around the statue in the main square; while the poor and friendless drifted uncared for on the fringes.

Such community spirit suited the vampires perfectly.

After three weeks of careful searching Angelus and Darla at last agreed that there were no other demons of any kind in the area, except for a small group of Troctal Beasts, who were irrelevant vegetarians, and three young vampires holed up in a disused mill. Angelus strolled off one night and came back with dust on his hands, and the family was ready to move in.

They took what was described, by Angelus, as a modest gentleman’s house; on the outskirts of town, with thick woodland all around and heavy shutters on the windows. It was convenient for the railway station. Angelus actually leased it, or so he claimed, though how he had paid for it was a mystery. Certainly though he went to a lot of trouble to get them securely established so no humans would cause problems for them. Autumn was well and truly upon them now, with such dark and miserable weather that even as hidebound a vampire as Angelus was prepared to do business during the day. Though he was crotchety about the early hours and took to drinking copious quantities of coffee. There was a continuous stream of agents, solicitors, tradesmen, and other busybodies coming to the house. And the paperwork started to mount up alarmingly.

Angelus tried to appoint William as some sort of secretary, but, after the third draft letter was shown back to him with the few places with legible handwriting revealing spelling to make Samuel Johnson turn in his grave, he began to regret it.

‘I thought you had had a good education. This looks as if a chicken stepped in a bottle of ink.’

‘Yeh, the masters at school were always saying that.’

Angelus engaged an elderly clerk to come in every second Tuesday.

They found a surly, unpopular man and installed him in the gate-lodge as keeper to patrol the grounds during the day. ‘You needn’t worry about after dusk,’ Angelus told him. ‘The dogs will be loose.’

The next thing Angelus did was have bars put in the window of William’s room, and a decent lock fitted to the door.

‘These, boy, are the rules,’ he said to the young vampire, who was standing in front of his desk in the study. ‘If you have any sense you will learn to remember them.

‘You do not speak to any humans I may happen to employ, or annoy them in any way. Tradesmen may call and the same applies to them.

‘You will appear clean and smart at all times and you will get up at an appropriate hour. If the doorbell rings I expect you to answer it properly, even if you have to get out of bed to do so.

‘You will be polite, respectful, and helpful to your elders. Respectful includes standing up when Darla or I enter a room, not pushing past us to get to your food, and not sitting down in our presence without our express permission. You will also stop this habit of alternating between babbling on about nothing and sulky silence: you can either hold civilised conversation or keep your mouth shut.

‘Do not interrupt me when I am talking. You will remember your place, boy.

‘Oh and you will bear in mind that you are to address Darla as Madam, which is something I’ve noticed you have been letting slide recently.

‘You don’t smoke in the drawing-room or anywhere near Darla, since it annoys her.

‘You know what will happen if you are unkind to Dru.

‘I expect you to put in at least an hour’s study of the ancient texts every night, and two hours’ practice with me.

‘Since we no longer have minions, from now on you are responsible for the household duties. I want the place kept clean, the lamps filled, and decent fires in all the rooms I use. This damn house is freezing.

‘If I don’t want you for the rest of the night then you may go out, but you will be back in by five o’clock every morning. The definition of in is the house and garden, not six fields away or halfway down the street. And you do not go anywhere without checking with me first and telling me where you are going. In the immediate area you will behave in a respectable fashion and be polite to the neighbours; if you want to kick up mayhem you can go into town to do it where nobody will recognise you, but you don’t do anything a human wouldn’t.

‘And this above all: you do not hunt on your own. If you find someone you like the look of then you may bring him or her home for Darla and me to meet, but you do not go any further until we have approved. You will not forget this.

‘And since we intend to be here permanently I don’t want you wrecking the house or leaving corpses rotting in your room.’ He drummed his fingers on the desk. ‘Stand up straight when I am talking to you.’ There was an almost imperceptible adjustment of the slouch. ‘Oh yes, and every evening, before I rise, you will polish these.’ He pointed to his expensive leather boots.

William cocked his head and looked at them. ‘Are you going to take them off first, or do I have to lie down to lick them?’

Angelus smiled grimly and stood up.

The belt was starting to look distinctly worn.

But so was Angelus’s forehead.

A few days later, Darla sought Angelus out in his study. ‘You gave the boy the evening off?’ she questioned.

‘Yes.’

‘And you let him go into town by himself?’

‘Yes.’

‘Was that wise?’

‘Why on earth not? He hasn’t still got the dirt under his nails, Darla. He knows what will happen if he misbehaves, and he is a young vampire with a lot of energy. If I go easy on him he won’t be such a nuisance at home. I can’t always be keeping an eye on him.’ He took in her expression. ‘Oh, come along. What can an ex-parson’s son from the suburbs possibly do with his evenings off that could cause trouble to a master vampire of the line of Aurelius?’

‘Angelus, this town is not as quiet as we thought,’ Darla said, looking up from the local newspaper.

‘Hmm.’ Angelus was struggling with writing a letter and not really paying attention.

‘Apparently some vandals smashed every single window in the shops along the high street, three nights ago.’

‘Yes dear. How do you spell residential?’

‘I don’t. There was also a very violent fight outside one of the pubs. An ambulance had to be called.’ She turned the page. ‘Most of those involved were arrested but one managed to knock out a policeman and make a get away.’

‘Snap!’ Dru yelled. She and William were lying side by side on the hearth-rug and he was attempting to teach her how to play bridge. But since there were only the two of them and they were using Dru’s tarot pack there was some uncertainty over the exact rules.

‘William, how do you spell residential?’

‘With an R, Sire. And two S’s.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yeh. No idea how other people spell it though. No, Dru, if you do that and that then you would have a… a Grand Slam. Are you sure you’re not cheating?’

‘Yes,’ she said crossly. ‘But I never understand your silly games. Like when you said it only counted if you smashed all the windows. I must have won.’ She preened herself. ‘You missed some of the pretty little ones above the shop doors.’

‘I did not!’ William retorted furiously. ‘I said those weren’t included.’

A pair of heavy-soled boots were propped up on the arm of the sofa. When Angelus and Darla entered they twitched slightly and then, with a low mutter, William stood up. Angelus stopped and smirked. ‘Well have you ever seen anyone manage to look so sullen!’ He crooked a finger and William came over. Angelus was smiling. ‘You are adorable when you pout like that.’ He brought up a hand and smoothed William’s hair, then lent forward slightly and whispered in his ear. ‘Is something wrong, Will?’

‘No Sire.’

‘What are you sulking about then?’

‘Not sulking, Sire.’

Angelus rubbed his face cat-like against William’s temple. ‘In my room, Will, is a brand shiny new cane that I’ve bought just for you. Why don’t you go and fetch it.’

William looked daggers but left immediately.

‘No blood on the carpet, Angelus,’ Darla said primly from her seat.

‘Oh, I wasn’t intending to go that far,’ Angelus said languidly.

‘By which you mean you are just bored.’

‘Well it might wake him up. He’s been lounging around for days.’

‘He’s been lounging around because you have barely found the time to speak two words to him. Perhaps you should consider actually setting him some useful work to do. And if you only want to play, then why not go and find yourself a street urchin or something, instead of tormenting the boy.’

‘Why do you mind?’

‘I don’t. I was simply commenting. You know me, Angelus, I never interfere.’

Throwing himself down into an armchair, Angelus waited. William came back and handed him the cane, his face carefully blank. Angelus looked up at him lazily. ‘Kneel down, boy. I’m getting a crick in my neck gazing up at you.’ William dropped to his knee, eyes lowered. Angelus pushed his chin up with the tip of the cane, still smiling. ‘Are you scared of this, little one?’ he asked kindly, tapping his finger against the cane.

William glanced at it. ‘It hurts. A lot, Sire.’

‘Ah.’ Angelus nodded in a pleased manner, then cocked one eyebrow. ‘And are you scared of me, Will?’

‘You’re my Sire.’

‘Oh, bright as a button my little boy is.’ Angelus set the cane down on a side table. ‘Come up and sit on my knee.’

William’s features didn’t even flicker as he stood up and sat as directed. He nestled up against Angelus’s shoulder as if it was the most comfortable place in the world to be.

‘And do you love me, Will?’

William reached up and slowly started to undo the top button of Angelus’s richly embroidered waistcoat. ‘You’re my sire,’ he said again, simply. Then he abruptly looked directly at him with dazzling blue eyes. ‘Course I love you.’

Angelus bent over and kissed him full on the lips. ‘Ah. My sweet, sweet, little boy.’

William slipped his cool hand down inside Angelus’s shirt. ‘You goin’ to beat me then, Sire?’ he asked casually.

Angelus gave a little gasp and tilted his head back against the high-backed chair. ‘Have you done anything wrong, my boy?’

‘Nah,’ William said. ‘Just wondering. You seemed awfully interested in that stick of yours.’

Angelus bucked and hissed, and then grabbed the back of William’s head, twining his fingers into his childe’s hair. ‘You do love skating along the edge, don’t you, little one.’

‘Nah.’ William trailed a sharp fingernail across cold stiff flesh. ‘I just know another rod of yours I’d rather be giving the attention to.’

‘I told you to answer the door.’

‘I did.’

‘And then you just stood and glared at Mr Peebles until he left.’

‘You said I wasn’t to talk to the humans you employed.’

‘I meant… for heaven’s sake, boy, I do not have time for this, you know perfectly well what I meant.’

‘Do I?’

‘Yes you damn well do.’

‘You told me I was a blithering idiot, last night. In great detail. You remember, it was when you were supposed to be showing me how to use a crossbow. But you’re my sire, you must have been right.’

‘Boy, I suggest you stop now before you talk yourself into more punishment than you can handle.’

William gave him a look that very clearly said he considered that a challenge.

‘He brought what home?’

‘A flock of geese.’

‘How did he bring a flock of geese home?’ Angelus didn’t even want to begin on the question of why he would bring a flock of geese home.

‘I have no idea. Herded them up the front drive for all I know. But they are currently grazing on our tennis court. Which will shortly be our slimy goose-green mud patch if you don’t do something.’

Just then Dru skipped up, looking as pretty as a picture in a white frock with yellow ribbons in her dark hair. ‘Grandmum, William said I was to ask you if you would make us some lemonade.’

Darla made a strange squeaking noise, which seemed to surprise Dru.

‘Where is William?’ Angelus asked darkly.

‘We’re playing tennis,’ Dru said brightly. ‘With the geese.’

It was no good, Angelus just had to ask. ‘How do you play tennis with geese?’

You held a goose by the neck and swung it wildly, so that the bird flailed its wings out in a cackling whirl of anserine indignation, and sometimes even hit the ball. Only by the third or fourth swing the things’ necks had a tendency to snap, which was why you needed an entire flock. It was merely a mild irritation that the more sensible reserve rackets had decided to make a bid for freedom through the rose garden, though since they had all previously been destined for the market it might be considered a display of gross ingratitude. William was after all giving them one last exciting outing and a sporting chance before they died.

William explained all this patiently to his sire.

‘Go and wait in my study,’ Angelus growled, wondering what on earth he was going to do with the pile of twenty-three dead birds abandoned along with a coat and some spare balls at the end of the net.

Angelus had never before considered his background to be a serious disadvantage. If anything the Irish accent was helpful – for lulling the prejudiced into a false sense of security, or for sweet-talking the gullible with an exotic air of the forbidden. But for the first time ever he found himself briefly wishing that he had been born English, because then he would probably have remembered about November the Fifth.

It wasn’t, in itself, a very large party. A couple of hundred people all told. Well, it was possibly three hundred, but there could have been more. And the bonfire, whilst it could undoubtedly have been better placed than right outside the drawing-room windows, might, when all was said and done, have caused far worse damage. The grass would presumably grow back, given time, and it was not as if the scorch marks on the house stonework were very visible after dark.

The badly aimed rocket that had shot through the window into Darla’s bedroom, and somehow ended up in her wardrobe, was another matter.

As was the wholesale raiding of the wine cellar after the beer had run out.

As was the stream of people barging through the house with muddy shoes and loaded plates of bonfire toffee and sausages, which they had dropped all over the carpets.

And as was the cheerful couple that Angelus had had to evict from the billiard-room when he arrived back at six in the morning.

‘You said I could invite people home,’ William said.

‘William, I was hoping you might find some possible prey. Not half the town for a party.’

‘But you also said I had to be nice to the neighbours.’

Angelus thumped his desk. ‘Damn it, boy, they tore the cloth on the billiard table!’

‘So I said I’d help him find out what it was like.’ William demonstrated with vigorous hand gestures.

‘From the top of the town-hall clock tower?’

‘It’s the highest place.’

‘Which you broke into?’

‘Yeh. Not a private residence, you see. That’s the beauty of it.’

‘And you then told him to jump off.’

‘Told him?’

‘So you are telling me that you in fact pushed him!’

‘Launched,’ William corrected. ‘He did say he’d always wondered what flying was like.’

‘William, he was drunk. You know this because you were the one who got him drunk; you bought him and everyone else in the pub seventeen rounds. The landlord arrived with a demand for payment this morning.’ Angelus stirred up the huge pile of correspondence on his desk and produced a piece of paper. ‘Couldn’t you have at least given a false name and address?’

William frowned.

‘For heaven’s sake, boy! Are you a complete fool? These are hardly the actions of a cunning vampire.’

Momentarily, William looked disconcerted. Then he abruptly dismissed Angelus’s words airily. ‘I had to lure them into a false sense of security. You taught me that. I was checking him out as possible prey.’

‘The son of the mayor?’

‘Yeh. All right, maybe he didn’t turn out to be the best choice. So? He was enjoying himself. He was shouting “wheee” as he fell. Anyway, it’s not as if he died.’

‘That is because he landed on the hood of the Post-Master’s new landaulet.’

‘There you are then. That’s what I was aiming for. If he weren’t so fat he would barely have dented it. And it didn’t startle the horses. Much. They only bolted for a mile or two.’

‘William,’ Angelus said tiredly, ‘what part of this do you consider as keeping a low profile?’

‘Well, he’s got concussion, so it’s not as if he’s going to tell anybody.’

The first snow of winter fell.

Drusilla made a row of snowmen and then cast an enchantment to make them dance a ballet. They all sat on dining chairs on the terrace to watch, dressed in evening clothes and sipping blood from crystal champagne glasses.

Every time Darla went out snow would mysteriously fall off some overhanging roof or tree branch and straight down her neck; but she could never quite catch him at it.

‘Would you say William’s stalking was improving?’ she asked Angelus.

Angelus considered carefully. ‘He did quite well last night. He can still be a bit clumsy sometimes.’

‘So he was with you all night?’

‘Yes. I haven’t been paying his education enough attention recently. But I’m trying to get him interested in catching miners. I think maybe I’ve been trying to push him towards the wrong social class, it is no wonder he has been bored: the upper sorts hold no interest for a lad like him. I’m sure that is all the problem has been.’

‘Hmm.’

It wasn’t until she had gone that Angelus remembered that William and he had become separated for half an hour or so. When they had met up again the young vampire had explained that he had been diligently following up a possible lead all by himself. Angelus had been rather pleased: it was the first time William had shown such initiative. Even though it had unfortunately come to nothing – apparently.

He wondered if he should go and tell Darla. But he couldn’t really see why it would matter to her.

‘What on earth are you wearing?’ If there was an answer then it was inaudible from where Darla was sitting in the hired carriage, impatiently tapping her foot.

‘You are not going out with me, looking like that. Go and put a collar and tie on. And don’t mumble to me or you won’t be going out at all for a week. No. Wait. Come back here. I said come back here, William. What is this?

‘Speak up.

‘Well you can’t take it with you.

‘I don’t care if it might prove useful: you are not carrying a shotgun to a supper party.

‘Well why do you think?

‘No you can’t just leave it in the cloakroom. Go and put it away.

‘What do you mean you promised? Whom did you promise?’

There was a lengthy pause.

‘Owl shooting! Nobody goes owl shooting.

‘You told him it was traditional where?

‘You’ve never even been to Albania.

‘Yes I have, as it happens, and I can assure you that they don’t hunt owls.

‘Wait a moment, is this the Lord Arbuthnot that I’ve been trying to get close to for the past three weeks? How did you meet him?

‘And what were you doing there last night, my boy?

‘Oh.’

Angelus appeared at last, looking cross, then abruptly disappeared back into the house again.

‘You may bring the gun. But you aren’t to load it in the carriage.

‘Because I say so.’

‘How did you get on, Will? Find out where they’re from?’

‘Yeh. Palburn Lane.’

Angelus just stared at him.

‘What?’

‘William, you were specifically told to find out where they worked, not where they live.’

‘Oh.’ He shrugged. ‘It’ll have to wait. Can we go home now?’

‘No. You are going back in there to do what you were told.’

‘Oh, go on, Angelus. It’s boring.’ He tilted his head ‘Can’t you do it? You’ll only take a minute; I’ll be hours.’

‘Back in there, or you will regret it when I take you home. I will be across the street.’

William gave a melodramatic sigh and went back into the pub. Angelus slipped silently into the shadows and blended seamlessly into the night. The chill wind bit coldly into him but he gave no sign of noticing it. He watched through the window as his childe went up to the bar and fell back into conversation with the young miners. Despite his words he didn’t seem to be having too much trouble: they had greeted him with welcoming grins and someone had stood him a drink already. Angelus nodded with approval as he saw William crack some joke that sent them all off into laughter. The master vampire couldn’t take his eyes off his boy. He looked so beautiful, bathed in the warm cheerfulness of the pub, surrounded by unsuspecting humans, setting them at their ease, fitting in.

He did seem to be taking a very long time about it though.

The door moved so slowly, someone might think it was merely relaxing on its hinges. As the gentlest of balmy breezes might waft it on a summer’s day, it opened. And a passing mouse of the most timid disposition would not have started at the figure that slid in, so silent and flowing was his gait. He oozed across the floor soundlessly, reached the staircase, and began to ascend, one step at a time, each foot carefully placed on the very edge of the boards lest the slightest creak escape them.

Angelus grabbed his collar from behind, hoisted him off his feet and swung him like a kitten, held by the scruff at arm’s length. He carried his flailing childe twenty yards along the hall and plonked him down in front of the long-case clock. ‘What does that say?’

‘Half past three. I’m not late, Sire.’ William was trying to look innocent.

‘Four hours ago, William, I told you to kill a tramp in Ravenley Wood.’ He spun him round, still keeping a tight grip on his jacket. ‘The next I see of you, you are fighting with three tramps and a policeman half a mile away; and then you disappear at high speed, with them all in hot pursuit. Would you care to explain yourself?’

‘He was just an idiot,’ William said, very unwillingly.

Angelus brought a tired hand up and rubbed his brow. ‘Why, William, do you always have to do this when I’m feeling worn out? Now, either I can hit you until you tell me what happened, or you could be practical and tell me straight away. Because we both know that I can make you tell – it is simply a matter of saving time, and yourself a great deal of pain.’

‘Don’t know what you mean, Angelus.’

Angelus looked up at the ceiling, gritting his teeth. ‘Will you, for once in your damn existence, just tell me what you’ve done!’

William batted his eyelashes. ‘But, Sire, you’ve only got to say the magic word…’

Angelus snarled, his fangs springing out. ‘I may be tired, boy, but I am not that tired.’

‘Well, don’t get so upset over nothing. He was very rude. He said all Irishmen were stupid.’

‘Oh I see. You were defending my honour were you?’

‘Yeh.’ William gave an impish grin.

‘And why did you even speak to him at all?’

William looked wild. ‘Wasn’t I supposed to?’

Angelus cuffed him five times in rapid succession, and then abruptly wrapped him in his arms, holding him tight. ‘Damn it, boy. I was worried.’

‘Very well, you may stand up.’

William straightened up with a shake of his head, as if trying to cast the worst of the experience off. Angelus put the switch away then came over and threw an arm around his shoulder, giving him a quick squeeze. ‘All over.’

‘Yeh.’ William grimaced then leaned in slightly against his sire.

Angelus kissed the top of his head. ‘Sorry?’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Good boy.’

Angelus rolled up his sleeve and held out his wrist. William bit down at once, suckling with greedy slurps whilst Angelus purred. At last the master vampire tapped him lightly on the back of the head, and when he didn’t immediately stop prised him firmly off. Angelus licked over the wound then reached around and began to undo William’s collar.

William was looking down. ‘How long does all this go on for?’

Angelus didn’t answer but licked slowly along the length of William’s neck, breathing in the sharp youthful scent of his childe.

‘How long, Angelus? Until I’m not a fledgling any more? Until I’m on my own?’

‘A decade at least. Maybe two. Maybe ten. And not until I say so.’

‘What if I ran?’

‘You know the answer to that.’

William turned round sharply, which knocked Angelus off. ‘Would you kill me? If I really riled you, would you do it?’

‘I might. Though strictly speaking a sire can’t kill or maim his childe. One of those tiresome little vampire lores.’ Angelus grinned. ‘I also can’t sell you as a slave, hire you out for my own profit, or use two or three specific spells on you. Oh, or make you have intercourse with a Skung demon against your will.’

‘Couldn’t they have included not being allowed to beat me or making me polish your bloody boots on that list?’

‘Apparently not.’

‘And how long till I can hunt for myself?’

‘Not until I can trust you to get it right.’

William frowned, bringing up his hands to play with one of Angelus’s diamond shirt studs. ‘Can’t I get it wrong, for a bit?’

‘No.’

‘Why not? Why can’t I be slightly less than perfect, and—’

‘Because I say so.’

‘Sodding hell, Angelus.’ He glared up at him. ‘Can I at least choose? I only want to have some fun whilst I hunt.’ His expression changed to one of childish appeal. ‘Those miners: you made me check them out, an’ I found out what you wanted, so can’t I pick how?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Pleeeease. I’ve got this idea and it would work. I know it will work, Sire.’

‘What is this idea?’

‘Can’t I just try it?’

‘No. Tell me what it is.’

‘It’s… I haven’t worked everything out yet. I’m going to, but there’s still some things I need to get right.’

‘Well, Will, you plan everything properly: not get some man in a pub a couple of drinks, but go and do some proper research, work everything out in detail. Then come and propose it to me, and I might consider it.’

‘Can’t I just go and do it when I’m ready?’

‘No.’

‘Why not? Yeh, yeh, don’t tell me. Because you say so.’

‘You’ve got plenty of other things to be concentrating on. This for a start,’ Angelus said, teasingly undoing his fly.

William seemed thoughtful. ‘But we won’t kill them some other way yet? Not until I’ve finished my plan.’

‘No. We won’t kill any miners until you’ve come up with your brilliant scheme,’ Angelus said in a put upon voice. ‘Now kindly remember your other duties, before I loose my temper again.’

William rolled his eyes and then dropped to his knees with a smirk.

‘Come down this instant!’

‘Stop fussing, Sire. I can reach it easily.’

‘No you can’t. There is ice on that roof. Be careful!’

‘Well, stop distracting me, then.’

‘Daddy, will William fall off, do you think?’

‘Will, get down! Now! That’s an order.’

‘Stop fussing, I’m fi—’

‘Will!’ Angelus rushed over and caught him just in time. ‘You little idiot.’

William was laughing, draping himself across Angelus in a theatrical pose. ‘What do you think, Sire? Do I make a good pieta?’

Angelus swiped him across the back of his head. ‘Don’t ever do that again. And don’t make bad jokes about that sort of thing, either.’

‘Why not? Or don’t you like having to play the mother of a god?’

Angelus shook his head in resignation. ‘Get down.’

‘Nah. I’m rather comfortable.’ He settled happily in Angelus’s strong arms. ‘And I did manage to get your hat.’ Dru came up, brushing the snow off the hat, which William had managed to knock free as he fell.

‘Put him down, Angelus. You look ridiculous,’ Darla said crossly. ‘Perhaps you can explain, William, how my childe’s best silk hat got up there in the first place.’

‘How should I know?’ William said sweetly.

Angelus was trying not to laugh.

‘Oh God, boy. Yes. Lower. That’s right, that’s right, just there. Oh Jesus. Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Where did you learn to do that, you wonderful little weasel? Oh God yes.

‘William!

‘Aaaaah.

‘No you can’t.

‘Oh. Oh, oh, oh. Yes, yes, yes… Yes!

‘Because I say so.’

It was a cold evening in late December when Angelus placed a very expensive bottle of port wine on one side of the desk, then settled down in his leather chair in what he hoped was an authoritative manner. ‘Will!’ he called.

After a second he got up and quickly put the port in a more prominent position, before resuming his pose.

There was the sound of running feet, and then William sauntered in. ‘What?’ And after a moment’s glare, ‘Sire.’

‘I am expecting guests on Saturday night. The evening has been carefully planned and I am fully confident it will go perfectly.’ He rapped the desk. ‘Perfectly, William.’

William ignored the gesture. ‘What’s perfectly?’

Angelus took a deep breath. ‘You are to play the role of butler. I will provide the necessary costume. All you need do is let the people in, take their coats, and then hand round drinks. Not this, this is a rather fine port I’ve got for us to have as a celebration afterwards, if the evening goes well.’ He hurried on, trying to ignore William’s expression. ‘You have spent enough time in polite society to know what is required and,’ he tried to sound jovial, ‘there should be good fun, and an enjoyable meal for us all at the end of it.’

‘Who’s the scrumptious feast, then?’ William asked sarcastically.

‘Damn it, boy, you will show me some respect!’ Angelus almost sighed out loud with relief when William ducked his head and put his hands behind his back, but he managed to catch himself in time. He did allow himself a small smirk though. ‘The daughter of Mr and Mrs Hatherthwaite. He is newly come into money, and wishes her to have a bit of polish before he puts her on the marriage market. Our story is that Darla and I are shortly to leave for an educational grand tour of the continent, and Darla is willing, for a fee, to take a young female companion with her on the trip. They’re all coming over to meet us.’

‘What about Dru?’

‘Dru stays in her room for the evening.’

‘That’s hardly fair. You should let her be the one taking a companion. I can play the head of the household, since they’re more likely to trust someone with my accent. You can be my cousin or something. And Darla would make a very convincing parlour-maid.’

‘Enough! You just reached your limit, boy.’

After William had gone, Angelus started to wonder if he should have offered two bottles of port instead of only the one.

‘Did I hear you shouting at William, again?’ Darla asked.

‘You did.’ Angelus smirked. ‘Just bringing home to him the importance of behaving himself when the Hatherthwaites are here.’

‘By which you mean that you have made it perfectly clear to him how much he can annoy you by doing something to ruin the evening.’

‘I have no idea what you mean,’ Angelus said lazily. He was lounging in the centre of their large bed, smoking a cigar and watching with an appreciative eye while Darla undressed.

She stopped unbuttoning her clothes and turned round on him. ‘No you don’t, do you, Angelus. That is the worst thing about this, you have absolutely no idea.’

He flopped over onto his back, and sent a stream of smoke up to hang in a spiralling blue cloud over his head. ‘If you want me to contribute to this conversation, you are going to have to tell me what you are talking about.’

‘I am talking, Angelus, about the fact that that boy is twisting you round his little finger, and you don’t seem to have even noticed, let alone care.’

‘He’s twisting me!’ Angelus said in a tone of amused derision. ‘I think you’ll find, Darla, that I am perfectly capable of managing a nine-month-old fledgling.’

‘Well I don’t see much sign of it, Angelus. Remind me what his purpose in my family is.’

‘Purpose? Well we do find it useful to have someone to carry the coal in.’ He laughed at his own joke.

‘His purpose is to keep Drusilla occupied. That is the only reason I permitted him to be made. So perhaps you can explain to me why it is that you spend every spare minute you have either playing with that boy, or yelling at him?’

He frowned. ‘I’ve got to train him, love.’

‘Why? What are you training him for?’

‘I would have thought that was obvious.’

‘And how long is it going to take? It takes years under normal circumstances, and you actually teach him something he needs to learn once a fortnight if he’s lucky. Besides which, he is a useless fool. The boy is a damn nuisance, Angelus, and I want him gone. Drusilla will cry for a bit, I have no doubt, but we will soon find her a new one.’

He rolled over and carefully stubbed out his cigar. ‘What’s brought this on?’

Darla had turned her back and was unfastening her dress again. ‘It will have to be a formal collective decision, I suppose. He is too old to just quietly dispose of. Too many people know about him. But between us we shouldn’t have too much trouble with Drusilla; she will agree if you tell her it is for the best.’

‘Darla, I’m not staking Will.’ He got up and came over to her. ‘Why on earth would you think I would agree?’

She froze, staring straight ahead and not looking at him. ‘Well, what do you intend to do with him, then?’

‘Why do I need to do anything other than what I already am? Which, believe me, is not light work!’

‘You see!’ she wailed. ‘You still don’t understand! He came home late for that pointless five o’clock curfew you’ve set him, three nights in a row last week, and you didn’t even notice you were so busy pounding him into the carpet. All you both do is dream up more and more elaborate games to get each other’s attention. And I can’t stand it any longer. Why can’t you just stop him! He’s doing it deliberately, Angelus. Why are you letting him? Why?’

He shook his head at the mystery of the female. ‘You’ve got the wrong idea about Will. He’s mostly simply showing off in front of Dru. That’s why—’

‘Why are you even making excuses for him?’

‘I think I’ve worked out what I’m doing wrong,’ he said quickly. ‘He just needs more discipline. I’ve been letting him run around too much.’

‘Well it is about time.’

‘Very well.’

‘And?’ Darla asked pointedly.

‘And I’ll… give him a talking to. Impress on him that he must pay more attention to his work. Not let him out of my sight for a month…’

‘Angelus!’

He frowned. ‘Well I’ve got that leather cat-o-nine-tails I used to use on Dru, somewhere…’ He went and rummaged around in a drawer, producing the implement at last.

‘For heavens sake! That is the last thing you should be doing.’

‘Are you saying, he’s getting like Dru?’ he asked, confused. ‘That he likes the pain?’

‘Angelus, stop treating him like a child. He isn’t a child, he is a vampire; and if you treat him like one he will behave like one.’

He looked at her blankly.

‘Go on, start treating him like a vampire.’

‘Er, yes.’

‘You chose to be his sire, Angelus. Call him in here, and remind him of the fact.’

He looked away and muttered something.

‘What was that?’

‘I said, he hasn’t come home yet.’

Darla took out her petite jewelled watch and examined the dial. The hands pointed to a quarter to six. She raised her eyebrows to Angelus, and planted a hand on the middle of his chest; before he had time to realise what she was doing she had propelled him out of the room, and slammed the bedroom door. In the echoing silence there was the death-knell snick as she turned the key.

Angelus hurled the whip to the floor with an angry snarl.

‘Darla!’ He hammered on the door. ‘Let me in!’ No response. ‘Come along, Darla. Don’t play games.’ He stopped hammering. ‘I could break this door down.’ He waited. ‘Love?’ There was no sound for a long time, and not even the rhythm of breath or heartbeat to measure the silence. ‘Sire?’

‘I can’t bear it, Angelus. He’s making a complete fool of you. And you’re letting him!’

‘He’s not. I’ll deal with it. I’ll deal with him. I promise. Only let me in, love.’

‘Why can’t you see it! Why of all people do you not understand? You’re making exactly the same mistakes as you did with that imbecile Drusilla.’

It was his turn to be quiet.

‘Angelus?’

‘What am I doing wrong then?’

He heard the rustle of skirts through the door, and her voice came from closer to the thick wood. ‘Darling, you’re doing what you always do: you’re being inconsistent.’

‘So I just have to be firmer—’

‘You can’t rely on hitting him harder and harder!’

‘What?’ He leaned his forehead against the cold wood. ‘Let me in love: so we can talk properly.’

‘No! Go away. You are a master vampire, Angelus. Go and think. Go and bite him, beat him, squash him into a bloody pulp, do whatever it takes – but then leave him alone! If you go on giving him more attention after you’ve punished him than before, he is going to get worse and worse. A fledgling vampire doesn’t need understanding, or love, or friends, or a father. He needs a sire. A strong dominant master that he can be respectful and obedient to, nothing else is required of him. Give him rules, Angelus, simple, clear rules.’

‘I did.’

‘No. All you did is make up a list of arbitrary things to try and get back some sense of control over him. Treat him like a minion vampire should be treated. It is hardly difficult. If he can’t hunt for himself then he should go hungry. Or let Drusilla feed him. And you, Angelus, must be his master. You have got to stop letting him get a rise out of you and you have got to stop babying him. I thought I’d taught you all this, Angelus. I thought you could be in control.’

‘I am! I can!’

‘You could train a puppy better than you are training him. You disgust me.’

Angelus slammed his palm against the implacable door. ‘Let me in. I’ll do it, Sire. I’ll start tomorrow. And I’ll be consistent, I promise. Now let me in.’

‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Angelus. I want action, not words.’

‘Darla, I promise—’

‘Deal with him. I want to see him behaving properly from now on. You either show me he is worth the time and effort you are wasting on him, or I put a stake through his heart myself.’

‘Sire, please…’

He heard her hard little heels click away across the floor, and however much he beat against the door and pleaded, she would not answer.

Defeated, he turned away with a snarl. He threw open the door to Drusilla’s room, which was the closest, and flung himself on the bed. Banks of gagged and bound dolls glared down at him, and beside the bed was a silver tray with a row of ivory handled instruments, all lovingly polished. He shot back up and stalked out.

Angelus prowled the house. Every room held some reminder: the billiard-room, the study, every spare bedroom. In the drawing-room was the half finished chess game he and William were playing, in the kitchen there were scratches on the table from where they had made love all night once. Outside Darla’s room was the whip.

He couldn’t bear to be in any of them. Finally he grabbed a decanter of whiskey and went right upstairs into the attics, to the cold north facing room furthest from where Darla was. He pushed the door shut behind himself, and sank down to the floor with his back against it, staring dully at the plain whitewashed walls. And the last weak rays of light reflected sidelong off the setting moon, which is as close to sunlight as a vampire can ever come, seemed to show that the Scourge of Europe was in despair.

There was a muffled noise from downstairs, and the sound of voices whispering. Angelus stiffened.

‘Watch where you’re going, Dru. Careful!’

‘I feel all swimmy in my head. Was it that man we had for supper do you think?’

‘’Spect so. That, or the bottle of Whisky later on. Shhsh!’

‘Why shshshshsh?’ She made it sound like the wind in the trees.

‘Because if he hears we’re back he’ll make me go and read some stupid demonology book or something. Let’s just go and…’

‘Ow, ow, get off!’ A suppressed snorting sound came, and the noise of feet running up the stairs. ‘Such a bad dog!’

‘Well call me Spike and tickle my tummy then.’

She giggled. ‘Spike!’

‘Come here,’ he growled playfully. ‘I’ll make you roll over.’

There was a squeak of pleasure, and then a scuffle.

‘No! Bad dog!’ Angelus could almost hear the pout. ‘Go away. Not playing any more.’

‘Aw, Dru.’

‘Brr. All cold. The Queen has made the King say goodbye tonight. When are you going to light the fire so we can play at mouldy warps?’

‘You do talk nonsense, Princess. I expect there’s a fire in the drawing-room, we can go and sit there, if you like.’

‘What about Daddy?’

‘Where is he do you think? The study?’

‘No.’ She sniggered. ‘Daddy doesn’t like the dark. All good boys and girls are in bed by storytime.’

‘Yeh. But it’s not storytime.’

‘Yes it is.’

‘No it’s not.’

‘It is. The moon told me.’

There was a pause. ‘Bloody hell.’

‘What does the grumpy clock face say?’ Dru had a problem with time, normally only ever managing to grasp the fact that she should be home by dawn.

‘Twenty past sodding six. Oh sweet bloody God, he’s going to kill me. Couldn’t the moon have told you it was this late a bit earlier?’

‘My little William,’ she said tenderly, ‘have you been wicked?’

‘No I haven’t. Least I didn’t mean to be. I was goin’ to come home early tonight an’ all. Why can’t I ever do anything right?’

‘Because of the fish,’ she said, as if it explained everything.

‘Do you think there’s any chance he hasn’t noticed?’

‘Come to bed, William.’

‘I can’t, Dru.’ He sounded miserable. ‘I’ve got to… because he’ll know—’

‘Are you going to ask Daddy if I can watch him hit you?’

‘No, I’m bloody not!’

‘Then you shall not have any supper,’ she said crossly.

‘Dru…’

Angelus heard light footsteps retreating, and the sounds of Dru going to bed alone. William seemed to have gone back downstairs.

The master vampire slipped noiselessly from the attic and went to the head of the main staircase, peering from the shadows down to the darkened room below.

William was standing in the middle of the hall, both hands fiddling awkwardly with a button on his jacket; he was frowning and staring at his feet. He kept casting a quick glance at the study door, then back at the floor again. Eventually he straightened up, put the familiar defiant look on his face, and went over and knocked firmly. He took a pace back, chewing his lip. After a while he frowned and knocked again, even louder. Then cautiously he tried the handle and pushed it open a crack. He peered round into the darkened room, and then stood looking into it in confusion. Eventually he shut the door, and went and repeated the performance outside the drawing-room instead. He tried several other places; though at the door to Darla’s private sitting-room Angelus was surprised, but pleased, to see that he listened carefully but did not try to enter. The elder vampire slid further back into the shadows as his childe came and looked speculatively back up the stairs.

He was heading for the staircase when he stopped and looked at the hall table. There was nothing special on it. Just a few bills, and a pile of gloves and hats that nobody had bothered to put away. Angelus was astonished when William picked up one of the hats and hurled it furiously away from him, smashing his hands down onto the table and standing with head bowed. He kicked angrily at the table leg.

When he’d calmed down he went and retrieved the hat; brushing it off and putting it back in its place.

William produced a cigarette and sat up on the table. He seemed to be thinking again, staring down at the floor. Finally, when he had finished his smoke, he jumped off and disappeared towards the back of the house.

Angelus came out of his lurking place and slowly walked back up to the little attic room, with head bowed in thought. He stood in the middle of the room, looking around. He had barely been in there before that night. It was high up under the eaves, with a low sloping ceiling and only a single dormer window. Against one wall was a tarnished brass bedstead with a rather battered chest of drawers opposite it. There was little other furniture. But an odd collection of other things that had made their way up there, most of which were stored haphazardly on the floor. An old copper kettle; a threadbare rug; a stack of what looked like his own empty cigar boxes; a little bundle of various newspaper cuttings; an old shawl of Drusilla’s. And a glass display-case, containing two stuffed squirrels, dressed in dolls’ clothes and locked in furious immobile battle with needle length swords.

He had brought that home a few weeks ago, from lord knew where, and Angelus had assumed it was intended as a present for Dru. But he had kept it for himself it seemed, cleaning the case so its rigid inhabitants showed bright in their glass prison, and setting it carefully on the chest of drawers. The rays of moonlight, cut into stripes by the thick bars Angelus had had installed across the window, glinted on the silver sword points and made their beady glass eyes shine. Dead, but so alive.

Angelus was still staring at the squirrels when William came in and visibly jumped when he found his sire in his room. In a second Angelus saw his childe’s demeanour change from sleepily distracted, to surprised, through to arrogantly challenging.

‘Come to give me a good night kiss, Sire?’

But in that fleeting instant of change the moon had shown something to Angelus that William could not hide in time: hope.

‘You’ve been a long time coming up, Will. Your curfew must have been hours ago.’

William gnawed at his lip, watching his sire cautiously. ‘Yeh, well, I’ve been doin’ things, er… in the garden. The nights are long now. Might as well not waste them.’

‘True enough.’

‘Um, is something wrong?’

‘No. Why should anything be wrong?’

William shrugged.

Angelus put his hands in his pockets and wandered over to the window, gazing out. He could feel his childe’s eyes boring into his back, could almost hear the wheels of his mind turning.

‘We went to the park earlier,’ William abruptly volunteered. ‘That big one with the bandstand. Dru wanted to dance.’

‘And did you?’

‘Yeh. But I trod on her toes apparently, so she just danced by herself in the end.’ He laughed ruefully. ‘I can’t really dance when I can’t hear the music.’

‘That’s my Dru for you.’

‘Yeh.’ William rocked back and forth on his heels for a second. ‘So… d’ you have a good evening then?’

‘Unusual.’

‘Oh. That’s good. Isn’t it?’

Angelus didn’t answer.

‘Sun’ll be up soon.’

‘Yes.’

‘Goin’ to be a nasty day. It’s cold out, hard frost.’

‘Yes. I can feel it.’

‘Yeh. Bloody cold this room.’

Angelus looked around, as if noticing it for the first time. ‘Why did you choose it? You could have had any room you fancied. Why this little one?’

‘Don’t call me that. Or don’t only do it when you’re cross with me.’

‘I’m not cross. Call you what?’

‘Little one.’

‘Little room. I meant little room.’

‘Oh.’

‘What do you want to be called then? Spike?’

He frowned because he’d forgotten about his earlier remark. Then he shrugged. ‘I dunno. Anything’s better than boy. Woof-woof. Me name’s Spike, watch out fer yer bones.’

Angelus smiled. ‘Come here.’ He held out his hand and William came and leant against him. After a while he let his head tilt to rest just comfortably in the crook of Angelus’s broad shoulder.

‘Are you really not cross?’

‘No.’

William gave a big contented sigh. ‘Because I like it up here.’

‘Fair enough. Anything you want for it: you know you only have to ask.’

William grinned. ‘I could get used to this being rich.’

‘Once you’ve been poor you never forget to appreciate money.’

‘Ain’t that the bleedin’ truth.’

Angelus looked down at him, slightly puzzled. ‘Ain’t?’

‘Eh? What?’ William blinked. ‘I think I’m about ready for my bed, Sire,’ he said in his normal voice, if rather sleepily.

‘Go on then. Fledglings need their rest.’

‘And that’s the bleeding truth too. Well certainly for this fledgling.’ He yawned, and started to undress. Angelus leaned back against the window frame and watched him. The copper kettle turned out to have washing water in it; and an ornamental Chinese box contained his soap, razor, and other personal things. ‘You goin’ to check I wash behind my ears?’ William joked, around a mouthful of toothbrush. Angelus only smiled.

When he was done, William bounded onto the bed and sat with his knees drawn up. ‘Tell me a bedtime story, Sire. Pleeeease.’

‘Why on earth would I want to tell you a story?’

‘Well… it’s nearly Christmas.’

Angelus grinned. ‘What has that got to do with it?’

‘I’m a vampire, I’m strong and powerful and can have anything I want.’

‘Oh, you’re telling me what a vampire is, now?’

‘Yeh. Cos you’re terribly old and stuck in your ways.’

‘What, like having daft notions about a childe showing respect to his sire?’

William lowered his head in a perfect display of deference, but for the cheeky grin playing over his face.

Angelus shook his head and came over to the bed. ‘And what do you want this story to be about?’

William wrinkled his forehead theatrically. ‘Hmm. Fluffy kittens and pretty flowers and flutterbys in the garden, of course.’ He lounged back and put his hands behind his head. ‘About you killing things, please Sire.’

‘Ah.’ Angelus gazed at him for a while with an unreadable expression, then he abruptly glanced around the room ‘Just let me set the mood right.’ He went and closed the solid shutters against the imminent dawn, lighting a single candle instead. In the flickering light the squirrels on the far side of the room seemed to shiver and move.

‘I’ll tell you a story from when I was a fledgling, not much older than you,’ Angelus said, returning to the bed and settling down beside William, who was now curled up with his nose just peeking out above the eiderdown. Angelus fished under the covers and, after two or three false starts that made William squirm with pleasure, he pulled out his childe’s left hand and placed it on his own thigh, splaying the fingers out.

‘Once upon a time there were four pretty daughters of a miller,’ he said, touching each finger in turn. ‘A sturdy practical one who was the eldest, a tall elegant skilful one, a strange romantic one, and a little thin baby on the end.’

William waggled his little finger to show he got the point. ‘And the miller?’

‘Was powerful and off to one side and not relevant to this story. Now be quiet and listen. The little one,’ he joggled the tip, ‘wasn’t as strong as the others, or as useful at doing important things.’

‘What sort of things?’

‘Things like picking out which sacks of grain should be milled first, or where they should steal their woollen stockings from,’

‘They stole their stockings?’

‘Yes. All millers and their daughters are thieves.’

‘I’m starting to like them more and more.’

‘Good. Then perhaps you will pay attention. So sometimes that made the little one very, very sad. Because the little one wasn’t always very patient, and wanted to be big and grown up like the others. And sometimes the little one would do very silly things in order to get the other three’s attention; and then the little one got shouted at and told off, and that made the little one feel even less happy. Until sometimes the little one would even pretend not to like the others, just to feel better about not fitting in.’

William didn’t say anything. His pale blue eyes were looking solemnly down at his hand.

‘And the eldest one was sad about this,’ Angelus went on.

‘The eldest one?’ William said in surprise.

‘Yes, the eldest one.’ Angelus was watching his reactions carefully. ‘Because although she was furthest away from the little one, she was still sturdy and practical and the eldest, and felt she was responsible for all her family, and she cared a great deal about what happened to them all.’

‘Oh.’

‘But the little one,’ another little joggle, ‘was too wrapped up in being wicked and sad and trying to get their attention, to even notice how much the others already cared, and that they didn’t actually need to be reminded all the time that he was still sitting there on the end.’

‘Oh.’ William frowned. ‘The end of what?’

‘Eh?’

‘The end of what? These are supposed to be miller’s daughters.’

‘They were miller’s daughters. And sitting on the end of the bench where they all sat at the big table in their kitchen every night. All in a row to eat their supper. Who’s telling this story?’

‘You are, Sire.’

‘Good. Otherwise someone’s going to find that his squirrels have been confiscated.’

‘You wouldn’t!’ One glance up met a raised eyebrow that told him the answer to that. ‘Do please go on.’

‘I intend to. Now, the tall elegant one… who appears to have a black ink mark on it— What have you been writing, William?’

‘I’ll tell you later. Go on with the story.’

Angelus abruptly got up and headed for the glass display case.

‘Sire!’ William squealed, and dived after him, wrapping his arms round Angelus’s legs.

‘Get off, you little clown!’

‘No!’

Angelus limped across the room, dragging William with him. ‘Have I at last found a way to keep you in line? Now, if I ask a question, I expect an answer.’

‘I was writing a letter.’

Angelus stopped. ‘To whom?’

William hesitated. ‘You’re goin’ to be angry.’

‘You think I’m not angry already?’

William snorted. ‘Yeh. Course you are.’ He rolled over so he was looking up at the other man. ‘To the charity kennels. I’ve asked them to come and take me away. Find a nice family to take me in for Christmas.’

Angelus bent down and swiped him across the head. ‘What makes you think anyone would have you, Spike?’

‘They will find my dashing good looks and winning ways irresistible.’

Angelus scooped him up and tossed him back on the bed. William was laughing and trying to get away across the mattress, so Angelus grabbed him from behind in a bear hug. ‘Who?’

‘Alice.’

‘Who’s Alice? And if you say something about Wonderland I’m sending you downstairs to fetch my squirrel gun.’

‘My Alice. My sister.’ William had gone very still. Angelus slowly released him and sat back on his heels. William turned to face him. ‘I said you were going to be angry.’

‘But you told me. You could have lied.’

William looked down. ‘Yeh.’

‘How long has this been going on?’

‘It’s the first time. And that’s the truth.’

‘But you’ve posted it already. That’s why you were slow coming up.’

‘Er, yeh. It’s posted. What do you mean slow? I—’

‘Never mind about that. What did you tell her, Will?’

‘Just things. That I was busy and happy and she wasn’t to worry about me. Nothing specific. Just, you know… stuff.’

‘Did you tell her where you are? What had happened?’

‘No and no. I’m not stupid.’

‘So what made you so upset you wanted to write to your sister?’

‘Why do you think I’m upset?’

‘Because I know you, Will. When you are most scared, you are most likely to play cheerful or directly challenge me. When you are trying to cover something up, you stare at your feet and bluster. And when you are really upset, you hit things and shout, calm down, smoke, then talk about anything but the subject. And tonight is the first time you and I have ever been reduced to discussing the weather.’

‘Well you’ve never come to my room before. I was thrown.’

Angelus ignored the evasion. ‘Why are you upset, Will?’

William flopped down on the bed, half turning his back on Angelus. ‘It’s not important.’ He started to kick his legs childishly. ‘So what do vampires do for Christmas then, Sire?’

‘Will, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.’

‘Help me! That’s rich.’

‘Of course I want to help you.’

‘Why?’ William turned on him, flaring up. ‘Why would you ever do anything for me?’

‘Because I’m your sire,’ Angelus said calmly. ‘Now tell me about Alice.’

William shrugged. ‘Nothing to tell. She’s my sister.’ Angelus just watched him. There was a heavy sigh. ‘She is my last link, the last little bit of the old me that’s left. And it’s nearly Christmas and… I don’t know why I did it. I just wanted to.’ He looked up at Angelus miserably. ‘What are you going to do?’

‘Where and when did you post it?’

‘The box on the corner.’

Angelus took out his fob watch and examined it, then pushed it back in his waistcoat pocket with a click of his tongue. ‘Some things, William, are beyond the control of even a master vampire, and one of those is the Royal Mail. We’ve missed stopping the collection, so it looks as if Alice will get her letter after all. She doesn’t know where you are?’

‘No. I promise I didn’t tell her.’

‘And what about the fact that she knows you are dead?’

William shrugged. ‘I didn’t actually mention that part.’

Angelus laughed. ‘Sometimes, William, you can totally astonish me. The rest of the time you’re merely a commonplace puzzling enigma.’ He shook his head resignedly, then shuffled over to sit back against the bed head, still laughing. ‘Come over here, Will.’

‘Why?’

‘Just do as you’re told.’ Angelus patted the bed invitingly.

‘Why? What are you going to do?’ William asked warily.

‘Stop being so suspicious and come and sit beside me.’ He finally came, though very cautiously. Angelus pulled William against himself, and rested his chin on his childe’s shoulder. ‘Now, Will, what on earth is going on in that head of yours? What’s the matter?’

‘Absolutely nothing. Just go ahead and hit me, as bloody usual.’

‘No, I’m not going to hit you tonight.’

‘Oh.’

‘Well don’t sound so upset about it. I sometimes think you’re getting like Dru.’

William didn’t notice the slight edge of a question in his sire’s tone. ‘No I’m not,’ he said crossly. ‘But if you’re going to leather me I’d rather get it over with.’

‘I am going to leather you, as you put it, but not for writing to Alice. I am however going to punish you, both for coming in late and for then going out again to the post-box; and since I need you for the Hatherthwaites you can consider it part of your punishment to wait until I feel like doing it. If you behave yourself I might even let you off.’ There was a very heavy stress on the suggestion that he behave. Angelus settled his arm more tightly around William, letting his fingertips brush against his upper arms. ‘Feel the muscles on you now, boy. And you were such a scrawny little thing, the night I brought you home.’

William was looking blankly into space. After a while he smiled quietly and said, ‘You never finished the story. What happened to the miller’s daughters?’

‘Them? Oh for heaven’s sake.’ Angelus ruffled his hair in an exasperated manner, then kissed him fondly on the top of his scruffy head and took hold of his hand again, splaying out the fingers as before. ‘So, big grown up Master William, one night the pretty miller’s daughters were all four sitting in a row at the big kitchen table, when there came a rap, rap, rap at their door.’ He knocked the edge of the bed to make a rapping. William settled back against his shoulder, and with his other hand fished out Angelus’s watch and started to play with it.

‘Don’t over-wind it; the spring is weak. It’s terribly old and decrepit like me. Now the four miller’s daughters—’

‘Pretty miller’s daughters.’

‘The four pretty miller’s daughters, all sat bolt upright, and said, “Lawks! Who on the dusty earth can that be at this time of night?” Because they were very stupid and couldn’t tell where a story was obviously leading.’ William sniggered. ‘And a deep manly voice came from outside saying, “Oh elegant ladies, I am a beautiful wandering stranger. Come and invite me in.” ’

‘Bound to work.’

‘Well I wouldn’t put you past trying it. But fortunately these miller’s daughters were densely stupid, so they let me in and I ate them all up.’ He kissed William. ‘Now give me back my watch.’

William started to unhook the other end of the long watch chain, with a little frown of concentration that made Angelus kiss him again. ‘Remind me, when was it, exactly, that you became such a baby?’

‘The three-hundred-and-forty-seventh time that you called me boy,’ William said pertly. He suddenly froze. ‘You kept it.’

Angelus followed his gaze and saw the bar end of the chain, which he had just taken out. From it, encased in a little golden band, dangled William’s tooth.

‘Yes, I kept it.’

William’s tongue went automatically to the place where his new fang was just beginning to peek through. ‘You bastard, you evil bastard.’ He hurled the watch onto the floor and tore himself away from Angelus, spitting curses – every hint of childishness abruptly vanished. The master vampire moved like lightning, grabbing him before he could get off the bed and pinning him to the mattress with his full weight.

But then Angelus did nothing, just holding him down while William raged and fumed, until he dropped into frustrated silence. When the young vampire was quiet at last, Angelus moved again, very slowly straddling him, both hands still on William’s shoulders, keeping him firmly in place.

‘So, Will, what am I going to do about my naughty little one?’

William scowled into the mattress. ‘Why don’t you leave me alone. I’m not naughty, and I most certainly am not your little one.’

‘Oh you’re not naughty. You’re obedient as they come, are you?’

‘Fuck you, Angelus.’ He bucked and writhed futilely again.

Again Angelus waited.

When William had once more subsided with a whimper, Angelus lifted up a hand and stroked his childe’s hair. ‘Come along, Will. Do you take me for a fool? We both know you have been deliberately acting the mischievous imp for weeks now. Take tonight: you came in late, several hours late, although you know perfectly well that you shouldn’t. And I don’t much care if it was deliberate or an honest mistake, because either way you’re at fault. I set the rules and it is your business to ensure you keep them. But you don’t. And I want it to stop. Because we can’t keep on like this, Will, can we? This isn’t making anybody happy. You must know that. You’re not stupid.’

‘Yes I am,’ William said sullenly. ‘I’m the stupid little one on the end, remember, old man.’

‘Careful.’ Angelus growled, before William really did go too far.

‘I always have to be careful. You’re a bleeding master vampire.’

‘Oh you do actually remember that sometimes, do you?’

‘Course I do. You’re… you’re all I think about, Sire.’

Angelus blinked and then stooped to kiss him again. ‘William, I know you are afraid of—’

‘I am not afraid,’ William said furiously.

‘Aren’t you? If you’d written to this Alice and then tried to hide it I might believe it was just because you were unhappy. But to do it and then tell me? That is the action of a naughty little fledgling who wants more attention than is good for him. And I think it’s because he is afraid of being ignored. Am I wrong? Why don’t you tell me what the matter is, then.’ Then Angelus carefully moved off, and returned to his place at the head of the bed.

William instantly turned his back on him, but didn’t try to leave. After a while he pushed himself up onto his elbows, and began to study his own thumb very intently. There was a ragged flap of skin where he had worried at the nail. He brought it up to his teeth and tried to nip it off cleanly; then he looked at it, and suddenly turned his hand over and held it palm out to his sire. ‘See that: that little scar on the edge of my baby finger. My father gave me that. He hit my hand with a ruler once. Well, three times. And the third time, he split the skin. Want to know why?’

‘Enlighten me.’

‘I ran away. Went for a whole day and half the night, because… actually I can’t remember why. Something important at the time. I was only eight. And I stayed out until it had got really dark. It was freezing cold and pouring with rain and I was terrified of the dark. But I was too scared to go home, or to go on, so I just sat there and felt unhappy, and wished Pa would come and find me and give me a hug and make everything all right.’ He flexed his hand, watching the little white ridge of the scar swell and retreat. ‘Then he turned up. Don’t know why it took him so long, cos I hadn’t got far. And I was so relieved. I thought it would be all right. I thought he’d lecture me a bit, and then he’d take me home and everything would be forgiven. Only it wasn’t like that.’

Angelus was listening carefully, studying his childe with a small curious frown.

‘He wrapped me in his coat,’ William went on. ‘And that was nice because it was very cold out; and he put his arm around me to steer me home. He hadn’t actually said much, just a few words about how he’d found me. Nothing complicated. And he walked me home like that. He had one of those bulls-eye lanterns, I remember. Like policemen have. And there was this smell of the hot tin. You know that smell? Like old dry blood. I hate that smell.

Well he got me home. Mama wasn’t there. I don’t know where she was. Away I think. And my sisters. They weren’t part of it; it was just him and me, that night. And I was so tired and miserable, and I kept hoping he would pick me up and carry me up to bed like he sometimes used to. That was what I was most worried about. Was he so upset that he’d send me up to bed on my own? Because I didn’t want that. I wanted him to carry me upstairs, or at least come up with me. Only he didn’t. He took his coat off me and hung it on the hook in the hall. We had this fancy coat and hat stand, with a mirrored back, and he always used the top peg on one side, while I used the peg on the other side. There was a special stool for me to stand on so I could reach it, when I was small.

Only he hung it on the wrong peg. I can remember saying, “Daddy, you put it on my peg. That’s wrong.” And then I looked up at him, and I think that was when I understood just how cross he really was; because he didn’t make any answer, he just looked at me with this look of contempt and sorrow all mixed up, and he wouldn’t say anything.’

William chewed at his thumb again. ‘I burst into tears. I’d been trying to be brave up till then, but that was too much.’ He examined the tiny red gash where he had torn the skin off, a little blood oozing out. ‘I just went on sobbing while he took me into the study and he hit my hands, three times on each one, with the ruler. And on the last stroke, he broke the skin.’

‘Then what?’ Angelus asked.

‘Then he sent me to bed, and he never mentioned it again. A few weeks later I was sent away to school for the first time. It was the only time he ever hit me.’

‘He sounds like a soft fool.’

‘By your standards, maybe.’ He swung round and sat on the edge of the bed, still with his back to Angelus. ‘Do you know why I cried?’

‘Guilt, I imagine. You had a soul then. Maybe fear.’

‘No. It was because that was the moment I realised that he wasn’t all-powerful. Can you remember that moment? When you first felt let down by your father.’ He wasn’t looking, so he didn’t see Angelus’s frown. ‘He’d been everything to me up till then, omnipotent if you like. Everything. But when I’d needed him, he hadn’t been able to find me, and when he did, he was just cross.’

‘And he broke your trust.’

William swallowed and nodded. ‘After that I could love him, I could even admire him as I got older, but I could never worship him again. And I would never entirely trust him.’ He glared at Angelus, not daring to say it outright but willing the message to get across.

‘Do you know why I keep your fang?’

William shook his head sullenly.

‘It may not be what you think. I keep it because that was the time you really, truly trusted me. And when you are being a real nuisance I like to remember that moment, when you turned to me and trusted that I was right when I told you to change back.’ He came forward carefully, and put his arm around William. ‘Was I right? Did it hurt less when you changed?’

‘Yes,’ William said, in a very small voice.

‘Do you know how I knew?’

‘No.’

‘Because someone once did it to me.’

There was an awkward silence.

‘Sorry,’ the vampire whispered. ‘I am so sorry.’

‘You won’t ever do it again, will you?’

William shook his head vehemently. ‘No, Sire. I’ll never bite Dru again. I swear. I really do swear it.’ It was a promise he was to keep for over a hundred years.

‘That’s all right, then.’ Angelus kissed him once more. ‘Nothing left to be sorry about.’ He quickly picked up his watch and the little fang, and tucked them out of sight.

William leant back, gazing at the ceiling. Then very quietly he said, ‘I feel… I sometimes feel so scared that I can’t move. And then the only way I can cope is to sort of ride it, because then it’s as if I’m not there any more, I can hide in the feeling of rage and excitement, and I don’t have to think about being frightened any more. I don’t have to think about anything.’

Angelus was listening carefully. ‘Ah,’ he said, as if something had just become clear to him at last. ‘Do you want to know the moral of the story?’

William shrugged.

‘The moral of the story is: Darla is always right, just not always for the right reasons.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘Quite a lot to me. So you should simply accept it.’

‘But I can’t!’ William wailed. ‘I must never just accept everything you say. Don’t you see that? I’ve got to fight you. I’ve got to. It’s the only way I can still be myself. Because otherwise I feel I’m not here anymore. That it isn’t me, it’s just some toy you’ve made, some animal you’ve trained; and when you say bark, I do.’

‘Not an animal, William. A vampire.’

‘I hate it.’

Angelus was silent. William was chewing at his thumb again, little sharp snips that sounded loud in the quiet room.

‘I can’t turn the clock back, Will. I can’t say it’s all over, and make you human again. This is it now. And even if your sister would have you, you would tear her throat out within a month. However hard you tried, sooner or later you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself. You would grow hungry and forgetful, and all you would see was a warm moving meal in front of you, and you would bite.’

‘No I wouldn’t. Alice is my sister.’

‘She was his sister: William’s. The dead William’s. Not yours.’

‘Well who am I, then?’ He looked at Angelus with pleading grey eyes. ‘Spike? Your spaniel vampire, who comes when you call, and cringes when you beat me, and then fawns against your hand because it is the only chance of affection I’ve got left. Is that who I am?’

Angelus looked at him steadily. ‘Yes,’ he said simply.

‘No,’ William said, in desperate pleading.

‘Look at me. Whose are you?’

‘Yours Sire.’

‘Mine. Do you still not understand what that means?’

‘Yeh. It means you own me.’

‘No. It means you belong to me. And that means I hold you closer than any father, any lover, any human could dream of. If you’ll just let me I can be the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to you. And all you have to do in return is trust me.’

‘What you’re never going to lay a finger on me again!’

‘Stop being naive, boy. That’s not what I mean. I may school you, William, I may hurt you even; but I will never ever, while it is in my power to prevent it, let any harm come to you.’

‘But you killed Allwood, you…’ He clenched his fists. ‘You’re a demon.’

‘I’m your sire. Trust me.’ He hugged him very tightly. ‘You only have to trust me. Can you try to remember that?’

‘Yes Sire.’

‘Good. But remember one other thing.’ He leaned forward and whispered in William’s ear. ‘You may be my dog, Spike, but I do love my pets.’

William stared at him in astonishment. Angelus let him be for a while. William had turned away; he abruptly dashed his hand over his face, and Angelus could feel his body stiffening as he fought with his emotions.

‘You’re still fighting it, Will. You told me once that the only bit of being a vampire that you liked was being able to show your emotions.’

‘You taught me, remember, you taught me how to control my face.’

‘Oh, little one, you don’t have to hide it from me. I’ll love you whatever you do.’

William’s body began to shake.

‘Come along,’ Angelus began to purr, stroking his hair with long smooth strokes. ‘You know I love you. And you love me. Don’t you?’

‘How can I?’ William sobbed. ‘How, Angelus? You frighten me so much! I’m so scared all the time I just want to curl into a ball and hide.’

‘But you’re supposed to be scared of me, Will. And you aren’t scared of anything else, are you?’

‘No.’

‘Exactly. And you must like that.’

‘Yes.’

‘What else do you like?’

‘I dunno. Dru. Hunting, sometimes. You, sometimes. When you’re in a good mood.’

‘And that’s not enough?’

William shrugged. ‘I like being strong an’ fast. Fighting’s fun. The night can be so beautiful it makes me want to cry. But…’

Angelus put his hand lightly on William’s head, turning him back to face him. ‘But you miss the sun. You miss your old friends and family. You miss having a place in the human world. You miss being free and able to do what you want.’

‘Yeh.’

‘You hate always having to do as you’re told. You hate the fact that you have to be my servant. You hate the fact that I can catch you and dominate you any time I choose. You hate the fact that as soon as the Hatherthwaites have gone I’m going to tan your hide for your various crimes and there is nothing you can do about it.’

‘Yeh.’

‘Hardly surprising, you’re a vampire. Tell me, when you were alive, what was the worst time you ever had?’

When I was eight, I suppose. My first few terms at school.’

‘And what would you say now to an eight-year-old who was complaining that they couldn’t stand it and life was unbearable?’

William sighed. ‘Buck up and sit it out, it does get better.’

‘Exactly. You’re barely nine months old. It does get better.’ He smiled. ‘You may be a puppy, little one, but I’m going to make sure you grow up into a big, strong mastiff, not a spaniel. Now what did I once tell you about not spending too much time in your head? Stop worrying about what is going to happen tomorrow.’

‘How?’

‘By concentrating on the soon-to-be-Christmas present.’ Angelus kissed him then again, but not a feather-soft brush on the forehead or cheek this time, a hard bruising kiss that drove against the thin skin of his lips, to the blood and the bone underneath. Forcing the way in, Angelus pressed his own tongue up against the tip of William’s fang, until a single drop of blood welled up and trickled down the young vampire’s throat. Blood laced with power, and the promise of the might of a master vampire, while still the kiss penetrated deeper. A kiss William began to return as strongly.

Then frantic young hands came round to tear away the cloth and words and thoughts that came between them, while Angelus’s fingers twined into the back of William’s hair, holding him firmly, mouth against mouth; searching and pressing in.

Neither drew breath. Silent as dead things their icy bodies tangled together. Angelus pushed William down against the rough horse-hair mattress, never breaking contact, feeling every movement through his skin as much as seeing it, knowing that the young demon was spreading his legs wide. And without pause, Angelus entered, smooth, cold flesh slipping in so William arched and pounded the mattress with his fists.

Again and again Angelus thrust, William driving up to meet him each time, chest rubbing against chest, lips, tongues, and fangs grazing one against the other. Sparks of fire flying yellow behind their eyes, as their locked gazes never broke.

Angelus tilted his head, exposing his neck, and William bit down, seizing what was being offered. Suckling off the heady potency that had given him new life, revelling in it, burning up all sense but the fervent immediacy of energy. Then Angelus bit too, so they were joined inside and out, and the rich, hot scent of blood filled the air. Understanding of his own potential flared up in William. Knowledge of what he was and what he yet could be, slick and bright as quicksilver, hard as iron. Speed, and strength, and power beyond human imagining; with the lust for life of the demon in a mind that would live and grow forever, forged anew in the devil’s furnace to cut the night like a sword. A red flame blazed through both vampires as they came together with a victorious howl.

And when Angelus finally slid out he pulled his sweet little William securely against him, as they slumped together into sleep.

When William awoke, Angelus was still there.

He blinked and gazed in confusion at his Sire’s back. Such a thing had never happened before. Angelus went: it was one of the things he always did. The only occasions on which William had been allowed to sleep in the same bed as his sire were when Darla was there too; and even then, as often as not he’d been kicked out to spend the rest of the day on the floor. William lifted his sleep bleary head and tried to work out what was going on.

There was a sharp pain where he had been ripped by the dry entry, and another where Angelus had bitten him, but he ignored them. Pain was of little significance to William any more. He couldn’t remember the last time when he hadn’t had some bruise or cut somewhere on his body. But his sire was lying beside him in the bed, and that was something new.

Very softly he blew on the curved back in front of him, watching the fine dark hairs gently part and bow. But Angelus was fast asleep, and the air from William’s lungs was no different to that in the room all around them, so it elicited no response.

The room was cold, chill with the frost that, as William had correctly foretold, had lasted all day. While the absolute quiet told of the heavy frozen fog that enveloped the house.

William reached out to the motionless form and traced the lines of Angelus’s tattoo. It was not like other tattoos that William had seen, which were blue and washed out. This was sharp and as black as it must have been on the day it had been put on. He wondered when it had been done and by whom, and longed to ask.

He trailed his finger around the outline of one wing of the lion and down onto the limb of the letter A.

Mark, he thought, the winged lion of St Mark. Why?

Angelus’s mark.

He slid closer and breathed in the sharp scent of his sire, studied the fine pores and hairs of his skin, and lapped out a darting tongue to steal his acrid taste. ‘Sire,’ he breathed. ‘My sire.’ He blew against the skin again and brushed his cheek over it. ‘Angelus.’ He closed his eyes to dwell in just the scent, and called him by the name Dru sometimes used. ‘My Angel.’

He propped himself up on one elbow, resting his head on his hand.

Angel of what?

Angel of death, certainly, but more than that.

Angels are messengers of God, he thought. And Angel is just the English for Angelus. He looked directly at the sleeping man beside him with a cheeky grin. ‘What’s the message Angel? What were you sent here to say?’

Don’t go out without telling your friends where you are going.

He smiled grimly and traced the tattoo again.

And St Mark represents the loyalty and majesty of Christ. Though the lion can also sometimes be a symbol of the devil, but also, absurdly, the sun. And the A was presumably for Angelus, or possibly Aurelius.

Alpha, the first. The beginning of all things.

The most wonderful thing in the world if he could just trust him.

He sighed and slumped back, his mind drifting away from the confusion of apparently contradictory symbols to the relative clarity of his plan. He was convinced it would work. It was a stroke of genius and a fitting Christmas present for them all. Dru would love the bang, and even Darla would be permitted to share in the results. He smirked, fantasising that she came begging to him to be allowed to be included, calling him Master and genuflecting low. He would make her lie face down on the floor for an hour or two, stepping casually around her as he handed out largesse to his favourites first. Dru would be seated on a high throne, minions ranged on either side eagerly awaiting his bidding, and Angelus—

He rolled out of bed quickly and got dressed. He scooped up one of Angelus’s boots, and after a bit of hunting located the other in a corner, then he left without another glance at the master vampire still fast asleep and oblivious under the warm covers.

He slipped noiselessly along, collected the small pair of button boots placed neatly side by side outside Dru’s door, and the expensive fashionable ones casually thrown outside Darla’s. Downstairs, in a small back room, he ranged the boots along the counter, kicking off his own and putting them on the end of the row, and he considered them all.

They were all going to have to be polished.

Dru wouldn’t actually care what hers looked like, but he could never know when Angelus might decide to call her to him and if his sire saw they were badly done there would be trouble.

Darla most certainly did care. Not that she minded about the appearance of what was hidden under her skirts, or so she would claim, but she had some bizarre belief that things had to be properly looked after so they would last. Which was absolute nonsense since she seldom kept the same outfit for more than a week. But she would create no end of problems for him if she found fault.

His own he would normally try to get away with just giving a quick buff, and hope Angelus didn’t notice. They were only cheap working boots and wouldn’t take much of a shine anyway. But with the Hatherthwaites coming his sire would be bound to check.

And then on the end, black and ominous, were Angelus’s.

They would have to be perfect. Absolutely perfect. Not a speck of grime, not the smallest scratch or smear. If Angelus ever missed having a reflection, then William would be willing to lay good money it was seeing his own face in his toecaps that Angelus missed the most.

William sighed, picked up a rag, spat on the blacking, and began.

This time last year, he thought, I would have considered anyone who had to do this as a brainless menial without the imagination to better himself. If I had passed anyone in the street who looked like I do now, I would have hurried on with my hand on my purse.

He worked the polish carefully into the seams, mindful not to get any onto the fastenings, since no one would be pleased with him to find black on their fingers after doing up their boots.

He dealt with his own first, since they were quickest and he wouldn’t have to stand on the cold stone floor in his bare feet for longer than necessary. Then he did Darla’s, to get them out of the way. Then Dru’s, because it cheered him up slightly to handle anything of hers. When they were done he put them all to one side and glared at Angelus’s.

He fished out a cigarette, and went and slumped against the wall.

He was cold, the chill of the house seemed to have seeped into his very bones while he slept, and he knew he wouldn’t feel properly warm until he was allowed to feed, but the hot smoke in his lungs helped a little. Smoking also damped down the continuous nagging distraction of human scent if he went outside, so he could almost ignore it at times if he wasn’t hungry, almost pretend he was still human.

There was a discreet rap at the back door.

William pushed himself off the wall and went to answer it. A thickset man with a bushy red beard tufted with grey, was standing with his hands plunged in his pockets, shifting from foot to foot and shivering.

‘How do, Will lad. Let us in then.’

William stepped aside, and the man dashed in out of the cold. He rubbed his hands together. ‘Ruddy hell, Will, you folk do keep this place parky. Freeze the balls off a brass monkey it would, in here.’

‘Light the fire if it bothers yer. I ain’t had time yet.’

The man shook his head. ‘Tighter than a virgin’s hole your gaffer is. Making you save on coal again, is he?’

William snorted. They were walking into the echoing empty kitchen.

‘Any chance of a brew?’

‘Nah. Stoves not lit.’

‘Ruddy hell.’ The man shook his head again. He then reached inside his coat and produced a hare. ‘Nice long-ears for you. Fell into me hands last night ’e did, the obliging young gentleman.’

William considered it, taking a long drag of smoke. ‘Don’t like hare. Dry.’

The man sighed and put it away. ‘Brace o’ pheasants?’

‘Nah.’

‘Partridge?’

‘Don’t really like small game, mate. Not my style.’

The man grumbled and reached into his trouser pocket, producing a small pile of coin, which he began to laboriously count out into William’s out-held hand. ‘You’re a ruddy jew, you are, Will.’

William shrugged. ‘Yer wanna poach in our park, yer gotta pay for the pleasure. Either that or I tell my governor how I came across yer a wanderin’ through the trees one night…’

‘Unnatural heathen.’

‘So I’m told.’ He pocketed the coins. ‘Any news from town?’ William pulled open a cupboard and produced a bottle, uncorking it and tipping some of the contents into two battered tin mugs. The man took one gratefully, hastily downing a big gulp.

‘Naught to tell. There’s talk of a strike again, but I reckon it’s just lads wanting a few more days kicking over the traces afore Christmas.’

William laughed. ‘P’raps I ought to go on strike. Only way I’ll get a holiday round here.’

The man eyed him curiously, but didn’t pry.

William studied the depths of his mug, swirling the contents around. ‘D’ yer know anythin’ about explosives?’ he said carefully.

The man sucked his teeth thoughtfully. ‘What’re we talking about here?’

‘Say a man wanted to make a bit of a bang, bring down a tree for example, how do you think he’d go about something like that?’

‘Oh, you just want to blow out some stumps!’ The man seemed relieved. ‘That’s naught is that. Bit o’ dynamite will set you right there. Drill a hole, stuff it in, light fuse, and bugger off like blue blazes. But you’ve got to get stuff right down deep, otherwise it just blows straight back out hole.’

‘Hmm. How would I know how much to use?’

‘One stick’s plenty. You can allus go back if job weren’t done right first time.’

William frowned and took a swig of his drink, lost in thought.

‘Well, best be going,’ the man said, finishing his drink. ‘Missus’ll be wondering where I am.’

‘Bollocks. They’re not open for another hour.’

The man grinned. ‘No harm to be first in line.’

‘Don’t go,’ William said quietly.

The man rubbed his broad finger thoughtfully against the side of his nose. ‘Reckon you ought ter find yourself a bit o’ company lad. Nice pretty girl, to keep you warm these cold evenings. Not stuck out here wi’ this load o’ misers. Lively young lad like you: ought ter get yourself a better place. There’s allus men wanted at Hargreave’s, or big new place in town—’

‘I’m all right,’ William said quickly. ‘Well, you’d best be off. I’ve plenty to do.’

‘Aye. Right you are then.’

‘See you next week.’

‘Aye. Happen. Happen I might be giving it a rest for a while. Live within law for a bit.’

‘Oh.’

‘Can’t be risking too much over Christmas. Not fair on young ones.’

William turned his back on him, putting the bottle away. ‘You can see yourself out.’

‘Aye.’ The man turned to go. ‘You think about what I said, Will lad. Always a place somewhere for a strong young fellow that’s not afraid of a decent days work.’

William ignored him; he was lighting another cigarette. When he heard the door shut after the departing poacher he went back to Angelus’s boots.

‘Work’s not the problem, mate,’ he muttered, as he picked up the shoe-brush. ‘Problem’s the day bit.’

By eight o’clock, Angelus was tentatively beginning to relax. The evening seemed to be going well. The Hatherthwaites were presumably sufficiently in awe of being in the house of an actual descendant of the great Irishman Finn MacFinagle (of whom no one had hitherto heard), that they hadn’t noticed that the butler was somehow combining a permanent sneer with the mannerisms of a bad music-hall performance. They were also polite enough not to mention the occasional bangs and screams drifting down from Drusilla’s bedroom.

‘So, Miss Hatherthwaite,’ Angelus said, thickening his brogue and sliding up to the startlingly attractive young girl who had just finished entertaining them all to Pretty daughter of mine… at the piano. ‘What interests you most about continental art?’

The girl gazed earnestly at the ornamental plaster-work of the ceiling, and seemed to consider this very carefully.

During the wait Darla turned to Mrs Hatherthwaite, whom she had identified correctly as the decision-maker of the family. ‘I must congratulate you, Mrs Hatherthwaite, on the charming accomplishments you have taught your daughter. She scarcely needs the addition of a continental tour to finish her off – she is quite perfect already. Not that I could bear the thought of having to go without her now,’ she added with an exaggerated simper. ‘I am quite captivated at the prospect of such an engaging young companion.’

‘Aye,’ Mrs Hatherthwaite said. ‘She’s got fancy ways enough. Plain cooking and a bit o’ sewing would ha’ been good enough for me, but Hatherthwaite there insists: so off to Europe she must go.’

‘Now, pet, we both agreed.’ The successful industrialist, standing comfortably warming his backside in front of the fire, stuck his thumbs in his waistcoat and tried to look decisive in the presence of his better half.

Angelus was trying to ignore William, who was handing round glasses of lemonade on a silver salver with a theatrical reverence and a broad wink every time he came near his sire. The master vampire took a sip of the sticky liquid with a barely suppressed shudder. The Hatherthwaites, it had turned out, were strictly teetotal.

‘Titian,’ Miss Hatherthwaite burst out suddenly.

‘Bless you moppet. But you ought to use your hankie in company,’ Mr Hatherthwaite said.

‘No, no, Dad: Titian. He’s an artist.’

‘Oh, is he? Well if you say so moppet. The sight of the pit head-stock against the sky on a frosty morning, now that’s artistry to me. Eh, MacFinagle?’

‘There is beauty in many things, Hatherthwaite. Many things.’ Angelus let his eye linger appreciatively over the man’s daughter. Hatherthwaite nodded contentedly to himself.

‘Dad, must you always be going on about the mine?’ Miss Hatherthwaite sulked.

‘Aye, lass, when it’s the pit as is paying for you to be going on this here trip.’ He snagged another glass of lemonade off the salver, as William passed.

Miss Hatherthwaite muttered some excuse and left the room for about the third time that evening.

‘Vests, Miss MacFinagle’ Mrs Hatherthwaite announced in a ponderous whisper that she presumably believed the men could not hear.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Under vests. And them frilly what-nots. What do you say about proper covering in hot weather? I won’t have my Mabel going without wool next her skin in these foreign places. That’s a sure recipe for rheumatic fever is that.’

‘No, no. I’m sure. I wouldn’t dream of encouraging her to do otherwise,’ Darla said faintly.

Mrs Hatherthwaite sniffed, as if the biggest worry about entrusting her daughter’s care to two relative strangers had just been lifted. ‘And your brother, Miss?’ Mrs Hatherthwaite fixed Angelus with her porcine eyes. ‘He’ll be along o’ you all the way, will he?’

‘Oh yes. We are never separated.’

‘Good enough for me,’ Hatherthwaite babbled loudly. ‘You’ll look after my little lass just fine, won’t you, MacFingler.’

‘Oh yes, Hatherthwaite. She will enjoy my closest attentions.’

Mrs Hatherthwaite looked suspiciously at her husband. ‘Are you feeling yourself tonight, Alfred? Not having a spot o’ your old trouble, are you?’

‘No, pet. Quite champion.’ He patted his stomach comfortably. William handed him another glass of lemonade, which Hatherthwaite knocked back with an appreciative rumble from that organ. ‘Very fine lemonade you serve, Miss MacFizfangle. Does you make it yourself?’

‘I believe it came from a bottle,’ Darla said curtly.

‘Several bottles,’ William muttered, as he left to get fresh supplies. Darla’s eyes narrowed as she watched him leave the room.

‘My Betsy makes a very fine lemonade, don’t you, old girl. Not quite so tasty is this. Less sugar, I’m thinking; but you can really feel the lemons going down. Very fine. Very fine indeed.’

‘I’m glad you are enjoying it.’ Darla hadn’t touched her own glass.

‘Will we see Pompeii?’ Miss Hatherthwaite asked, coming back in.

‘We can if you want to, my dear,’ Angelus purred.

‘I have heard that there are some fascinating frescoes.’

‘Oh yes.’ He directed her over to a small side table where a few travel guides were artfully scattered. ‘And there’s one room—’

‘Very fine.’ Mr Hatherthwaite slapped his belly with a loud smack and belched, rocking back and forth on his toes.

‘One room you would find particularly—’

‘Nothing like a good glass o’ lemonade to settle the stomach.’ He took the next glass from William.

‘I would have thought you found it rather acidic.’

‘Nay, nay, lass. Not I. Digestion of a bear.’

‘Where the frescoes represent—’

‘Is it a bear? What’s the saying, our Mabel? Digestion of a bear is it?’ he bellowed across to her.

‘You could say bear, Dad.’

‘The signification of the dancing figures representing—’

‘Bear don’t sound right to me, lass. Something else, I’m thinking.’

‘A pig?’ William suggested.

‘Aye. Good thought, young man. Could be a pig. Could be that. Fine digestions pig’s have. Very fine.’

Darla crooked a finger at William, and removed the glass he had been about to hand to Mr Hatherthwaite, then sniffed it carefully, while he looked at her with wide innocent blue eyes. She pursed her lips as she returned the glass to the salver and waved for him to carry on. She exchanged a glance with Angelus and shook her head almost imperceptibly. Angelus looked puzzled. He turned his attentions back to Miss Hatherthwaite, edging up closer.

‘Camel,’ Mrs Hatherthwaite said flatly.

‘Got it in one, Misses. Camel it is. See that, Miss Muckfingleyfangly. No need for fancy educations when my Betsy is around. Knows all that needs to be known, does my Betsy. A camel. Fine beasts I’ve no doubt. Will you be riding camels in Europe, Mick Flogingle?’

‘Er, not as far as I am aware. That would be more normal for Arabia.’

‘And you’re not going there, then?’

‘No. Just Europe.’

‘You wouldn’t consider getting hold of a camel, if I bumped up the fee a little?’

‘I’m afraid that might prove impractical.’

‘Oh.’ Mr Hatherthwaite looked crestfallen, but manfully finished another glass, which seemed to give him some solace. ‘Still. We can always buy us a camel, if our Mabel wants to be riding one, can’t we, Betsy. Plenty o’ room in them fancy stables we’ve got now. Come back here, lad, and give us another drop o’ that fine lemonade you’ve got there.’ He tilted his head back dramatically to down the glass in one. ‘Very fine,’ he said, and with elegant grace tipped over backwards onto the hearth-rug.

‘Should I ask their coachman to bring the carriage round now, Madam?’ William asked.

‘It was you,’ Darla said. ‘I don’t care how you did it. I’m not even particularly interested in why you did it. But I know it was you and you are going to regret it for a very long time.’

William blinked. ‘I have no idea what—’

She hit him, once, a backhand across his jaw that knocked him right away so he landed in a heap against the wall. He shook his head, trying to clear it, and attempted to push himself back up.

‘Angelus,’ Darla said, and the order in her voice was clear.

William found himself staring at his sire’s boots. He looked up at the grim height towering over him. ‘Sire, I—’

‘Get up.’

He pushed himself up the wall.

‘Was it you?’

‘What’s happened?’ he asked very quietly.

Angelus growled. ‘The Hatherthwaites, not unsurprisingly, have expressed their regrets but they have decided not to send their daughter to the continent after all. They have also withdrawn the invitation to their Christmas Ball.’ William looked slightly wild, but didn’t say anything. ‘So I repeat, William: was it you?’

‘Was what me?’

Angelus clipped him round the ear, not as hard as Darla but enough to make his head spin. Angelus’s voice, though, remained calm. ‘Don’t pretend to be stupider than you are. The man got drunk, so drunk he fell flat on his back in front of you. The only question is, was it you who did it?’

‘Of course it was him! Stop wasting time, Angelus.’

‘You didn’t seem to care at the time. “Oh, Mrs Hatherthwaite, do not alarm yourself.” ’ William put on a silly high voice. ‘ “I’m sure it is just a slight head cold. He will be fine in—” ’

Angelus hit him again. ‘Was it you?’

‘Yeh, well you’ve obviously condemned me without a trial,’ William said gruffly.

‘I haven’t condemned you yet, boy, but you can have a vampire trial if you want one. Believe you me, though, you don’t.’

‘It was just a stupid girl,’ William said crossly, and he tried to push past Angelus.

Angelus thrust him back against the wall with one hand. ‘Have you any idea how rare such an opportunity is? A pretty, young girl from a good home, who we can do what we like with. Do you know how much preparation went into this? How long I spent developing the idea, finding a way to implement it, wooing the Hatherthwaites, bribing various people for references, being seen and accepted in the right quarters? Have you any idea how much it actually takes to feed this family, boy, whilst you are off entertaining yourself with childish games?’

William scowled. ‘Well it was nothing to do with me. He must have had a hip-flask or something.’

Darla snorted.

The third blow was considerably harder. William clenched his fist to hit Angelus back but stopped himself in time, glaring at his sire. Fortunately, Angelus didn’t seem to have noticed. ‘I don’t know whether to be more annoyed that you should lie to me, or that you insult my intelligence with the lie you choose to use. The man is a pillar of the local temperance society, boy. Try again.’

‘I don’t know!’ William yelled. ‘It wasn’t me. You know it wasn’t me, you checked the lemonade. Dar… Madam, you checked it. It wasn’t me.’

‘I checked one glass,’ Darla said sharply. ‘Hatherthwaite drank dozens.’

‘Why though? Why would I?’

‘Who knows, William, why you do anything. And as I say, I am really not very interested any more. Now, will you stop wasting time, Angelus.’

Angelus though was looking down and frowning, he abruptly released William and walked away a few paces. ‘I’m not sure. I don’t think he’s lying. Why would he do it? Perhaps the man did have a flask.’

‘Angelus, I do not believe I am hearing this!’

‘William, go to your room.’

‘But I—’

‘Now!’ Angelus had his back to Darla and he looked at William with an expression that very clearly said that everything would be all right, if he would just do as he was told. William looked worried but dropped his eyes and left.

‘Angelus, I forbid you to defend that little fool to me. It was perfectly obvious all evening that he had got something up his sleeve. You only had to look at him.’

‘I’m not going to defend him, but I also want to be certain it was him. It benefits nobody if I punish him for something he didn’t do.’ Angelus paused and shouted, ‘William, when I say go to your room, I mean your room, not standing outside listening at the door.’ There was the sound of feet running up the stairs. ‘Now we are going to come to a calm decision about this, Darla. Whether we like it or not, Will is a childe of this family. A childe of the blood of Aurelius.’

‘Do not take that tone with me, my boy. I told you: you dominate him or we stake him.’

‘You want me to be consistent. Very well, that means not punishing him unless he did it. I want proof.’

She clicked her tongue and walked to the door. ‘Drusilla!’

Angelus went and poured himself a drink. ‘Do you want one?’

‘No.’

They didn’t speak again until Dru wandered in, round eyed with curiosity.

‘Did you call, Darla?’

‘Sit down, Dru. I want you to tell us about your William.’

‘My little Spike?’ She looked from one to the other in amazement.

‘Spike?’ Darla asked crossly.

‘It’s just a nickname,’ Angelus said shortly.

‘Well let the wretch be called whatever he wants, I don’t care.’ She sat down beside Dru. ‘Now, Drusilla, do you remember how important those human guests were?’

Dru nodded.

‘And William was supposed to help, wasn’t he. Serving drinks and so forth.’

‘He gave them lemonade.’

‘Exactly. Did he tell you anything about that, Dru? Anything about a joke that might be played?’

Dru shook her head in suspiciously quick denial, without asking for any sort of explanation.

Darla looked triumphant. ‘Are you sure, Drusilla?’

Dru nodded.

‘Hold out your hand, dear.’ She grabbed Drusilla’s fingers and bent the middle one up and back. Dru gasped, her face contorting in pain. ‘Come along, you can tell me. What did he say to you?’

‘Darla!’ Dru yelled, looking at Angelus pleadingly. ‘Please, Daddy.’

Angelus sipped his drink, watching with a blank face.

‘Just tell me, Dru,’ Darla said with soft menace.

‘Bottles,’ Dru yelled. ‘Gin in one of the bottles. Poured in.’ Darla released her and she withdrew into a ball, nursing her hand.

‘There,’ Darla said. ‘There is your proof, Angelus.’

Angelus remained impassive. ‘Who poured the gin in, Dru?’

His childe whimpered and turned away slightly.

‘Tell me, Dru.’

‘It was just poured,’ she said sullenly. ‘Drip, drop. Man goes flop.’

‘Did William know?’

‘No,’ Dru said very sulkily.

‘What?’ Darla looked furious. ‘What do you mean? Of course he knew. He did it!’

‘Who put the gin in, Dru?’ Angelus asked flatly.

‘That silly one. The mincing miss. Stole it from your study.’

‘Where were you?’

‘Upstairs. Looking down. Saw everything.’

‘Oh dear God, the man’s own daughter.’ Darla threw herself out of her chair and started to pace the room. ‘That blithering little moppet did it. And now we…’ She stopped. ‘And that idiot boy didn’t even notice.’

Angelus downed his drink. ‘So are you going to start looking for some other reason to have him punished, Darla, or have you had enough for the evening?’

She glared at him and jabbed a furious finger at his chest. ‘Remember your place, boy.’

‘I always do. Now, if you’ve finished torturing my fledglings, I’m going out for the night, and I’m taking Will and Dru with me.’

Darla’s eyes gleamed gold. ‘No you are not.’

He ignored her and headed for the door.

‘You are a fool, Angelus,’ she called after him. ‘And if you think that boy cares for you, you are an even bigger fool.’

He stopped. ‘He cares for me.’

‘He thinks you are a sadistic, oafish, Irish brute who will send him mad if he doesn’t manage to get round you.’

Dru gasped. ‘My William isn’t like that. He’s a brave knight who loves us all and saves me from the beast.’

‘Oh yes. And exactly which beast does he save you from, Drusilla? He thinks you are just a little lunatic who he has to molly-coddle and keep entertained because we tell him to. How often do you think he would spend the night with you if he were allowed to choose?’

Dru bit her lip.

‘He’s bewitched you, both of you! Look at you: the black sorceress, and the great big master vampire; running around like kittens after a nine-month-old fledgling with pretty blue eyes. And what does he care for you in return? Nothing! He despises the pair of you for the bloodthirsty demons he thinks you are.’ She glared at them both. ‘All he cares for is preserving his own skin and amusing himself at your expense. What do you think all that business in London was about? He’s been trying to get us all killed ever since he was made.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘Oh, I’m ridiculous, am I, Angelus? Tell me, when has he ever shown any interest in the achievements of this family? He despises you and he despises what you have made him into.’

‘No!’

‘Prove it, then,’ she said. ‘When has he made a kill of his own choosing? When has he suggested one? When has he asked to be allowed to torture one? This is the vampire who couldn’t even bite properly for weeks. Who never once asked to kill his own family.’

‘There was that girl: Cecily. And her husband.’

‘A woman who had rejected him. Oh he can be spiteful if someone hurts him enough. But enjoy killing the innocent? I don’t think so, Angelus.’

‘You don’t know him, Darla, you haven’t spent as much time with him as we have. And as regards hunting, well, he’s got some plan. Something big, he—’

‘What exactly?’

‘Well, he didn’t say, he… something to kill some miners, I think.’

‘Oh yes, the famous miners. These would be the ones he is always so keen to go drinking with, would it? And you are sure his plan is a wonderful mysterious scheme to kill them, are you, Angelus? Sure it isn’t just an excuse to stop you from killing them?’ She twirled round. ‘Tell me, Drusilla, how does your precious William choose to spend his time? When he’s off on his own, what does he actually do?’

Dru put her hands over her ears.

‘And you, Angelus? Do you know where he goes?’

Her childe was white faced, fists clenched.

‘Let me tell the pair of you. He goes into town and he meets up with humans. Not to hunt them, not to torment them, but to spend time with them. He calls them his friends. Yes friends! Humans. Food. That’s what your sweet little boy does at night, Angelus, he makes friends. You two, you didn’t pick him and make him a vampire with the confidence to hunt people and exact his revenge, you gave the little bastard the confidence to actually talk to them for the first time in his miserable existence. And he’s discovered he likes them!’

‘He kills people.’

‘People he doesn’t know. The strangers you find for him. But you ask him to kill one of his pet friends and you’ll soon see what sort of a vampire William the Bloody is.’

William was sitting on the tiny window-seat in his room. There was just space for him if he drew his knees up, and then he could stare out at the scrap of moorland behind the house. Sometimes he could hear the mournful calls of the sheep, though they did not bleat much at that time of year. In the spring there will be lambs, he thought. And I will be able to lie amidst the heather on warm nights, and listen to Dru telling me about the stars.

He blew a plume of smoke out against the window glass, and watched the blue tendrils curl and spread out, leaving a circle where the heat had melted the frosting of ice that coated the pane. He was careful not to blow again without first taking another drag of his cigarette. His dead breath would make no mark.

There was a squeak as the door was pushed open.

He quickly stubbed the cigarette out and looked up. ‘What happened?’

Angelus stepped into the room. Darla was standing behind him; she was smiling.

Angelus snapped his fingers at William, who stood up and came over with considerably more bravado than he felt. ‘Yeh?’

‘Down on your knee, fledgling.’

William looked bemused. ‘What?’

‘Kneel!’ Angelus shoved him down. ‘Now repeat after me: I, William, in my folly hath forgotten my place and defiled the noble bloodline of Aurelius. I offer penance.’ His hand was still on William’s shoulder, holding him down, the nails digging in bruisingly.

‘I, William…’ he muttered the words in a resentful mumble.

Darla was watching with folded arms.

‘Face down on the floor, boy.’

William risked a quick glance up. Angelus was taking the strap out of his pocket. William looked at Darla, but there was certainly no help to be had there, no help to be had anywhere. ‘But you said—’

Angelus kicked his knee out from under him and punched him in the back, sending him sprawling flat on his face. ‘I said, on the floor, boy.’ He stood over him. ‘You are a vampire. From now on you will remember that and behave like one. You do not associate with humans, they are your food not your friends. You will find your pleasures only as you should: in the hunt, the kill, and the heart of the family in the noble bloodline to which you so worthlessly belong.’

‘What do you mean? I’ve done everything you asked. Everything!’

‘You have associated with humans.’

‘I haven’t. Well, all right, sometimes, but—’

Angelus stamped his boot onto William’s shoulders, holding him down. ‘I am not interested in hearing your excuses, William. You have disgraced your bloodline. You will accept your penance and never do it again. You are a vampire.’

‘That doesn’t mean I—’

He was squashed further down.

‘You never try to make a kill on your own.’

‘I do. You never knew, that’s all.’

‘Don’t lie to me. You have never shown any interest in my craft.’

‘But I try all the time. I’ve always tried.’

‘You think you can pull the wool over my eyes? Well it stops now, boy.’

‘You don’t understand,’ William sobbed.

‘You disgust me.’

‘No.’

‘You are a vampire. Learn not to forget that. Otherwise we will put you out of your misery like the runt of the litter you are.’

‘You can’t kill me! A sire can’t kill or maim his childe. You told me that, it’s the vampire lore.’

‘A sire can’t. But the clan collectively can. And if you do not please us, then we unhesitatingly will.’ He put his heel on William’s neck. ‘Whose are you?’

‘I trusted you!’ William yelled.

Angelus kicked him. ‘Whose are you?’

‘Yours Sire.’

‘Mine,’ Angelus said. And he raised his arm.

William lay miserably on his bed staring at nothing.

A beating from Angelus was never a trivial matter, but the latest had had far more intention behind it than the rather half-hearted punishments that had been handed out over the past few weeks. And for the first time in a very long while there had been no comfort afterwards. None of the patient explanations of what he had done wrong and how he could try better. No urgent lovemaking from his aroused sire, which more than compensated for everything that had gone before. Not even a furtive visit from Dru in the quiet of the day, to lick his wounds for him and sing nonsense to soothe away the pain. He had been abandoned; and all through the long day and the longer night they had barely spoken to him.

William knew that it was all something to do with Darla. She had come and stood over Angelus, whilst he was beating William, with folded arms and a pert expression; and when Angelus was finally finished she had nodded as if he had just passed some sort of test.

Then she had taken William’s squirrels.

He was furious about that. It was not as if he had many possessions, but she had blatantly picked up the case and carried it out. And it was too much of a coincidence for him not to believe that Angelus had not suggested it to her. He hadn’t dared complain though, because it would probably spur her to stick them straight on the fire. He had a horrible suspicion he wasn’t going to get them back whatever he did.

They had come upstairs together, he had been beaten, and his squirrels had been taken away.

It was so unfair.

He had accepted that Angelus owned him. He hated it, but it was a fact; and at least he could admire his sire. But as Darla had taken his beautiful squirrels she had said, ‘He is not entitled to belongings of his own, and certainly nothing so pointlessly human as these. He needs to learn that he is our property.’ And he was damned if he was going to consider himself as belonging to her as well.

William viciously punched the pillow in an attempt to get more comfortable, and then returned to his brooding.

He was homesick.

He hadn’t been homesick for months, but now it was somehow ten times worse because he no longer had a home. True he had accepted after the first night that he could never go back to it, but it had somehow made it more bearable that it was still out there, that they had been carrying on the old life even if it was without him. And by the time they had come north he had so drifted into his new life that it hadn’t mattered as much. But Angelus despised him; and Darla had taken his squirrels; and they actually might stake him if he didn’t do better; and it was no good but he was desperately, overwhelmingly homesick.

At home he had been loved. Accepted for what he was, not continuously set some unattainable target of perfection. All he wanted was to be understood for himself. It was all he had ever wanted. But Angelus could only see the weak human he had once been. So of course he never suggested any prey, when he knew that he would be scorned and derided for every mistake he made. If he could have just got Angelus to himself he might have been willing to admit it, and ask for help, but with Darla in the room he wasn’t going to demean himself. Now, as the miserable lonely hours ticked away, he grew determined that somehow he was going to prove himself to all of them. He would kill half the peers in parliament during the state opening if that was what it took. Do anything if they would just accept him.

He swore venomously when there was a loud rapping at the front door.

For a few moments he was tempted to ignore it, but Angelus or Darla just might still be awake; so he forced himself up, dressed hurriedly, and slunk downstairs, trying not to yawn. He unbolted the door and cautiously peered out, although he knew from experience that the wide classical style porch would protect him from any sun.

There was a gasp and a human threw herself against him. ‘It is you, Billy. I can’t believe it! It’s true!’

He was being smothered in kisses, and someone else was pumping his hand vigorously. ‘So good to see you, old man. Couldn’t believe it when the letter came. Thought it was some sort of practical joke, but Alice here swore it was your handwriting, so we had to come up and see for ourselves.’

‘But…’ Then William realised what must have happened: he had very carefully not used headed paper but the force of habit was too ingrained; and, whilst thinking about what he was going to say, he must have scribbled the address down automatically. It was filthy luck that Alice was one of the few people who could actually read his handwriting. ‘G-George,’ he stuttered, recognising Alice’s fiancé, the curate, at last.

‘That’s right, old man. And isn’t this the most extraordinary thing! What on earth happened?’

There was a very long silence.

William stared past them, to the winter garden bathed in the morning sun. It slanted sidelong through the trees, turning blue where smoke drifted up from the lodge house, which was just out of sight past the bend in the drive. The frost was thick as icing on the lawn, and made strange sculptures of the dead flower-stalks in the herbaceous borders, which had never been cut down properly that year. He had never really looked at the garden before in daylight, and it was surprisingly beautiful. It was Christmas day.

Sun. A vampire couldn’t go out in the sun.

A fledgling vampire wasn’t allowed to feed on what he wanted, or stay out past his curfew, or make too much noise, or talk to whom he pleased. He had to stand when Darla or Angelus came into a room, and call them Sire and Madam. He had to be obedient and take his punishments; and apologise as if he meant it, when he never actually felt sorry about anything. He belonged to them – and they had taken his squirrels away.

He wasn’t allowed out in the sun and he wasn’t allowed to kill without permission. And both decrees seemed as arbitrarily imposed from on high as each other.

‘Come in,’ he said, and stood aside to let them through.

He quickly took them into the morning-room, before they could talk and make a noise. It was a light, airy room, on the east face of the house, positioned so the morning sun should be shining in to make it a warm and pleasant place. George kept looking at the heavy curtains, but he was too polite to go and open them in someone else’s home. William lit a lamp. Alice had just sat down very abruptly, so the two men did so too.

‘Are… are you well?’ George asked.

‘Yes. And you?’ The old pattern of speech seemed to slip smoothly back onto his tongue.

‘Oh yes. Alice is living with her… that is your… Uncle Robert, at the moment. But we hope to have a quiet wedding in the spring. I have been promised a living near Cheltenham.’

‘Congratulations.’

‘Thank you.’

Alice was crying, silently, without making a fuss, she was staring at her brother and the tears were streaming down her cheeks.

George swallowed nervously. ‘Look, old man, I don’t know how much you’ve heard, but the fact is I may have some rather rotten news for you. Very rotten indeed. The worse sort in fact.’

‘If it is about my family, then I already know.’

‘Oh, er… well, deepest sympathy, of course.’

‘Thank you.’

‘We, erm, that is, I hope you won’t disapprove, but I did engage a man to look into it. Ex-detective sergeant from the Metropolitan Police. Good sound chap. The bishop recommended him.’

‘I don’t mind. Did he find anything out?’

‘Not as yet,’ George said cautiously. He couldn’t bear it any longer and fumbled for a pocket-handkerchief, which he quickly passed to Alice. ‘Come on, old girl. It’s all right. Billy is fine. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?’

She put her hand up to her face, and laughed. A very small sound, that was closer to a sob than anything. George studied her in perplexed alarm, and looked at William to see if he had any suggestions. William was looking away. He seemed to be playing with a narrow beam of sunlight that was coming in through a crack in the curtains. Almost as if he were trying to catch it between his hands, without touching.

‘Of course we don’t believe this nonsense that your father lost the balance of his mind and attacked them all, then shot himself. But it will take some time to get the inquest verdict overturned, apparently.’

‘Yes.’

It was Darla who had produced the gun, William remembered, but Dru had insisted on pulling the trigger over the already cold corpse. Angelus had spent a long time showing both the fledglings how to arrange the body, so it would look like suicide.

‘My man thinks he may be able to make something of the fact that they killed the dog.’

‘Ah.’

Rusty had known instantly that there was something wrong about William. The barking had been annoying Angelus, so he’d kicked it onto the fire and then had to kill it with a poker in the end. William had never known that a dog could scream, before that night.

‘Robert has been most helpful.’

‘Very kind of him.’

‘Indeed.’

‘There must have been… papers and things.’

‘Robert dealt with all that, old man. You will have to speak to him the first chance you get. There’s your mother’s jewellery, of course, but otherwise the rest will have to be re-divided now.’ George frowned, as a young man will if he is soon to take on the burden of a young wife and a parish, and has just realised he will have a lower income to start out with than he had been relying on.

‘Never mind for now.’

‘No.’

Vulgar stuff, money. Shouldn’t really be discussed between gentlemen. Even if both of them had never had quite enough to be as gentlemanly as they wished.

‘How, Billy?’ Alice suddenly asked. ‘How are you alive?’

William got up and went and fiddled with the lamp, which wasn’t burning properly.

‘Nothing complicated. I woke up in the vault, broke my way out… Hard to say exactly what happened. I don’t have a very clear memory of it.’

The street was dark, but not so dark that he couldn’t see her eyes. After that his mind became fogged. Was that when he was dying?

George was staring at his feet; the constraints of good manners fighting with the desire to ask why William had not contacted them before.

‘Pa said he thought he saw you once. In the East-end.’

‘Yes.’

Angelus had whistled, and he had simply known that he had to go. Nothing complicated.

‘And Edith always maintained that you called to her in her room, the night after the funeral.’

Edith’s room was in the front; the only bedroom window in the house he could get near without climbing over the back wall. That had been before he knew how strong he was.

‘She said she was too frightened to speak back, so she threw down her key, expecting you would let yourself in, but you never came. Only in the morning it was tucked in behind the boot-scraper.’

He hadn’t wanted to leave it in full view on the mat, in case Edith got in trouble or a tradesman picked it up first. From his hiding place he had seen her find it the next morning. But by then he had discovered that the sun would burn him, and nobody came close enough to hear when he called.

‘We thought she was just making up stories because she missed you so much.’

Edith had always been a bit of a tomboy, the closest he’d had to a little brother. She worshipped him, he’d always known that, but he had found it rather embarrassing. She would have been fifteen if she had lived another week.

‘You were away on the night,’ he said flatly.

‘The night it all happened? Yes, I was staying with Margaret Davis.’

Alice’s best friend, just as her brother, Fred, had been William’s. Margaret and Alice had both gone to school with Cecily Adams.

‘We used to comfort each other, we both thought we had lost a brother.’

He had held Fred Davis down while Dru used the knife. She had cut his eyes out first: it was probable he had never even recognised William.

George wrapped his arms around himself as if he was feeling the cold. William wished he could go and open the curtains and let the sunlight stream into the room. Alice always looked best in sunlight, it brought out the roses in her cheeks.

He was staring at his sister, drinking in the sight of her. He had never seen her when he was a vampire, never without the screen of his glasses between him and her. She was beautiful, dark haired like their mother, tall for a woman, though not too tall, graceful. And he could smell her too. That soft lavender scent she always had, but magnified twenty, a hundred times, for him now; so it shrieked home at him with every deep breath he took to savour it. And he could see perfectly the silvery tears glistening on her cheeks, the warm pink tinge to her skin where the blood rushed through in her agitation. He could see the heaving of her chest, though she was fighting to hide her emotions. Hear the panting of it. Hear the pounding of her very heart. The blood throbbing through her veins.

When William moved it was with more grace and speed than he had ever been able to show when he was alive. He knelt in front of Alice. He took her hand. ‘I don’t think they can have suffered much, any of them. It was… it sounds as if it was quick.’ That was what humans told each other. He remembered that was what humans said. And Angelus had taught him how to seem reassuring, how to set someone at their ease, how to make them trust him. Like him.

‘No, Billy. They did suffer. We all suffered. For months. Because we thought you were dead. I am only grateful that none of the others lived to see this day.’

The magician cannot cast his spell in his own village. Was that why a proper vampire was always made to kill his own family?

‘Do you not believe that, if I could, I would have come home to you?’

‘So why? Why come to the house and then not come in? Why not speak to Pa when you saw him in the street? Why not at least write, before now?’

Why?

There must have been a moment when I had a choice, he thought. Some moment when I could have done things differently. Something I should have said, should have done. Only I can’t remember when it was any more. Not when I didn’t run away in London. Not when I didn’t speak to Pa. Not when I went back to them on the second night. Not when I first rose. Not in the alleyway when I was dying. No choice then. He never once gave me any choice.

In the street? Was that it? If I hadn’t bumped into him. If I hadn’t lost my temper and sworn at him. Might they have never noticed me? Might they have let me go on by, to be miserable about Cecily, and live with a broken heart for a few weeks, recover, find some other pretty girl, and start the whole thing over again? That is what humans do: they carry on. Carry on with life.

Was that what I did wrong? To tell him to watch where he was going. Is that what I’m being punished for?

‘Alice, do you believe in a loving God?’

‘Yes. Of course.’

William stood up and walked away a pace or two. ‘Well I don’t. Not any more. Something happened to me, that night I was attacked. And afterwards, while I was trying to get out of the vault. And I decided I wasn’t going to be pushed around anymore. I wasn’t going to be bullied by my so called friends, or care about silly stuck up snobs who looked down on me for not having enough money or knowing the fashionable way to wear my watch chain. I wasn’t going to be told that I couldn’t drink, or smoke in the parlour, or go out without a hat and gloves. And I decided that could go for God and all his silly little rules as well.’ Alice and George gasped at this blasphemy. ‘God never did anything for me, so I finally realised I was damned if I was going to do anything for him anymore.’ He grinned impishly. ‘I was damned. Do you think that was the moment I lost my soul?’

Alice was looking at George in horror, as if she expected him to do something, but didn’t know what.

‘And I was going to do whatever I felt like, be what I wanted, and other people could be hanged.’ He stopped. ‘Only there’s a price. Quite a high one as it turns out.’ He glanced longingly at the curtains. ‘I wish I could come home with you. Walk out now into the sunlight, and never see this place again.’ There was a muffled thump from upstairs, from towards the front of the house, the room where Angelus and Darla slept. William froze, looking upward, waiting, listening. George and Alice froze too, staring, following his gaze to the ceiling as if they too sensed that whatever was up there was a threat before which they must all keep silent.

He started to feel in his pockets, first one then the next. ‘I can’t.’ He said very quietly. His fingers closed over what he was looking for. ‘You see, the thing is: you think you’ve given up, but actually you never do. It’s like breathing I suppose. Your mind says it should stop, but your body just keeps on anyway because that is what it always has done.’

At last William looked back down and smiled. ‘He told me to follow my instincts, on my very first night he told me that. And I always loved my family. I used to have a father who wasn’t quite as all-powerful or as trustworthy as either of us would have liked. A mother who spent far too much time trying to be in control and the centre of attention. And a sister. A dark haired sister who meant so much to me I can’t express it, even though she is about as unreliable as they come.’ He shrugged. ‘That’s family for you. Not quite as perfect as they should be. But when it comes down to it, right down at the bottom of it all: they are in the way that matters most. I loved them then, and however hard I try, I still do. The only difference now is my family is dead.’ He looked straight into Alice’s grey blue eyes, the same colour as his own. ‘Do you want to join them?’

She gasped, and George rushed to her side, standing between her and William protectively.

‘Then I suggest the pair of you scarper as quickly as possible, and be long gone from this town by sundown,’ William said. ‘Because it’s really nothing complicated: I love them; only me and my family happen to be evil now.’ Then he pulled out his cigarettes, turned his back on his sister, and lit one with a surprisingly steady hand.

It was only after the door had shut behind the departing couple that he started to shake really badly.

William decided to get drunk. Not medicinal purposes only, not steadying the nerves, not slightly merry, not rather wobbly. But as far from the brutal realities of the world as the demon drink could take his vampire constitution in the short time available.

He kicked down the door to Angelus’s study, intending to steal everything in the decanters, only to find them drained dry by the attentions of Miss Hatherthwaite and his sire’s black mood. So he headed into the wine cellar, and located what little was left after the ravages of the bonfire party. And what the alcohol couldn’t do he made up for with self induced, unbridled, desperate abandonment. ‘I am a proper vampire,’ he yelled at the sun. ‘I am!’ He sank to his knees. ‘I’m evil. Big and bad and nasty and evil.’

He pulled himself up with a sniff. ‘Show them. Show them what I can do. Show him.’

He broke into Darla’s sitting-room too, and rescued his squirrels; smashed the glass case open and threw them out of the window into the sunlight. ‘Run free little creatures. Run away. Only watch out for the wicked, dangerous Spike. Grrrr.’

He roamed about in the back kitchen quarters for a while, destroying things at random, until he found a nice looking bread-knife. Then he retired to the billiard-room and cut the newly replaced cloth on the table into ribbons. Afterwards he lay in the middle of the drawing-room, singing hymns out of tune in a mocking tone. ‘Come on, God, come and strike me down! Haven’t you noticed I’m evil now?’ Nothing much happened. ‘Oh that’s right. Don’t have a soul. I’m not on your list of things to do any more. Yippee, I’m free.’

There was another knock at the door.

‘Bloody hell! Knock, knock. Who’s there? Never at quiet.’ He went and flung it open with a jerk. ‘Yeh?’

‘Where’s Mr Smith?’ Smith was the improbable name Angelus had chosen to use.

‘Oh, it’s you.’ It was the lodge-keeper, looking puffed up and self-important.

‘I need to speak to the master. I just found two people wandering around the grounds. I took their names and addresses, but then I had to let them go. I want to know what he wants me to do about it.’

‘On Christmas day? Now that,’ William said with a beam, ‘is devotion to duty. Service like that: it’s hard to find. Oughta be rewarded, service like that. Oughta.’ He held the door open wide. ‘Come on in. Wipe yer foot, feets… wipe yer foots. All of ’em. It’s Christmas. I fancy having someone in for a drink.’

‘No, no. I simply wish to speak to the master…’ The man trailed to a halt, and stared in shock at William’s hooked fangs and snarling brow-ridges. An arm appeared with demonic speed and grabbed his throat, dragging him inside. ‘I jus’ invited you in,’ William said. ‘It’s rude not to come.’

As the nearby church bells rang out brightly for the morning service, William gathered up every whip, cane and strap Angelus owned, and piled them in a heap in the middle of the hall, elegantly displayed over and around the body of the lodge-keeper. Then, with the help of a number of books of magic and vampire lore, he set fire to them.

It was the smoke that finally woke the others.

It also sobered William up enough to regain his sense of self-preservation.

You can’t fight a house fire if the only supply of water is on the far side of a brightly sunlit yard that you can’t cross. But you can grab a thick blanket each, and make a dash for the woods.

You can’t seek refuge in someone’s house if you need an invitation to come in and everyone is in either the church or the chapel. But on Christmas morning a coalmine is deserted.

Fortunately, Angelus was not the sort not to have given some thought to such an emergency; and he knew where the small side entrance was, up on the moor, and that a few hard blows would break the lock to let them in.

Whilst the others got properly dressed and started to complain, William withdrew down the tunnel. He found a quiet spot, sat down, took out the single bottle he had managed to rescue, and carried on drinking. After a while the sound of arguing drifted to his ears. There were three very angry vampires behind him, all much stronger and more experienced than he was. When you have dug yourself into a bad enough hole, sometimes the quickest way out is down. He got up and plunged on, deeper into the mine.

This was Hatherthwaite’s mine, Bell Shaft it was called, he knew; and half the lads he drank and got into riotous scuffles with on a Saturday night worked down there. They had described it to him sometimes, when he had stood them a few drinks, and they grew poetic in their inhibition. The dark, the damp, the all pervading smell of rich black coal and the fine layer of soot, the surprising clammy warmth of underground; secure and deep as a womb. His demon eyes could see well in the dark, his sensitive nostrils instinctively responding to the slight air currents to enable him to track his direction as he moved.

‘William!’ the customary peremptory shout. His master’s voice. And the others appeared, trudging along the tunnel.

‘We leave by the first train south,’ Darla was saying. ‘It was always a mistake to come north. We can stay in a decent hotel until we find a way to re-establish ourselves. I will write to my sire for help, if necessary.’

Angelus was scowling. ‘There you are. Are you all right?’

‘What, Daddy,’ William said sweetly, his voice loaded with sarcasm, ‘don’t tell me you still care after all!’

‘Don’t call me that, one of you is quite enough. Now, are you hurt, boy?’

‘Hurt? Would this be from the pounding you gave me the other night, or from when I set the house on fire?’

There was a stunned silence.

Darla recovered first. ‘Are you mad?’

‘No. I’m the sane one, remember.’

Angelus was shaking his head slowly in disbelief. ‘What do I have to do? What do I have to do to you?’

‘Fed up with being scared,’ William said bluntly. ‘Not goin’ to be scared of you any more, Angelus.’

‘What do I have to do!’ Angelus roared. ‘Why can’t you trust me?’

‘Cos it’s more fun doing it my way.’

‘Your way! And what is your way?’

‘I’m goin’ to blow up the mine,’ he said proudly. ‘Then we can have all the miners we can manage. To feed on for Christmas. Cos you see: I’m evil.’

‘Really? Was that the famous plan!’ Darla laughed. ‘You stupid boy, do you really think you could get away with that?’

‘Yeh. An’ why not? It would work.’

‘Because, you little idiot,’ she said, ‘how would you get the bodies out before the humans began their rescue? How would you ensure you weren’t caught in the blast yourself? All you would get would be a loud bang and a lot of dead humans going to waste.’

Dru’s eyes sparkled, as if she rather liked the notion of a loud bang and a lot of corpses.

‘Stuff you, Darla. Just cos you’re too scared to try anything ambitious. It would bloody work.’

‘What on earth do you think you are trying to achieve, William? A name for yourself? Do you want to be renowned for pointlessly slaughtering more humans than any vampire on the face of the planet? Well, if it’s a reputation you are after, you have a long way to go before you catch up with the Scourge of Europe, boy.’ She indicated her childe with a proud gesture.

Angelus was glowering, nostrils flared, moving into the cold calm that William knew full well presaged his worst rage.

‘You think I wanna emulate that tosser you’ve got another thing coming.’

‘I told you to trust me,’ Angelus said icily.

‘Yeh, well maybe I do, an’ maybe I don’t wanna. An’ you can beat me an’ starve me an’ chain me up, but you can’t make me trust you that way. You’re back and forth like a ruddy bus: I never know whether you’re goin’ to hit me or hug me. I reckon you’ve been dead for so long you’ve forgotten, but trust has to be earned.’

‘Bah!’ Angelus made a dismissive gesture. ‘You are not going to get a rise out of me, you stupid boy. I am not interested in your posturing.’

Darla sputtered. ‘Angelus!’

‘Make your mind up, woman: do you want me to deal with him, or ignore him? I can’t do both.’

‘Well really!’

William chewed his lip. ‘But I burnt the house down.’

‘Yes, yes, William. So you said,’ Angelus responded with heavy sarcasm. ‘I’ve no doubt you also committed the latest Fenian bomb outrage, and murdered sweet Fanny Adams as well.

‘I took my squirrels back.’

‘I imagine you did.’

‘I tore up all your books.’

‘Wonderful.’

‘I…’

‘You, boy, clearly need something to focus your energies on so you will damn well grow up.’ He spun away from him.

William glared daggers at his back. ‘Know what else I did, old man, I did something you’ve forgotten being a vampire is about. I had fun.’

Enough was enough and in a heartbeat Angelus had him by the throat. ‘Perhaps it’s my advancing years that make me so forgetful, William. Remind me: why don’t we kill you?’

The young vampire squirmed, trying to choke out a reply. ‘…ike…’

‘What’s that?’ Angelus let him go with a jerk.

‘It’s Spike now.’ William gave him a pointed look and slipped away. ‘You’d do well to remember it, mate.’

‘I’m not your mate.’ Angelus looked slightly confused, as if he hadn’t ever heard the expression. ‘And when did you start talking like that?’

William grabbed his bottle back off the shelf.

Darla was still fuming. ‘We barely got out of London alive, because of you. Everywhere we go it’s the same story. And now—’

‘You’ve got me and my women hiding in the luxury of a mine shaft’ Angelus growled with contempt, and prowled away down the tunnel, still torn between trying to reason with William’s bluster or just ignore it. ‘All because William the Bloody likes the attention. This is not a reputation we need.’

William gulped a swig. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, did I sully our good name? We’re vampires.’

‘All the more reason to use a certain amount of finesse.’

‘Bollocks! That stuff’s for the frilly cuffs and collars crowd. I’ll take a good brawl any day.’ His eyes widened at his own audacity.

Angelus’s eyes narrowed and his head lowered. ‘And every time you do, we become the hunted.’ He began to stalk back menacingly.

William clenched his fists as Angelus towered over him. ‘Yeh, you know what I prefer to being hunted? Getting caught.’

‘That’s brilliant strategy. Really, pure cunning.’ Angelus smiled condescendingly and brought his hands up to straighten his boy’s lapels.

‘Sod off.’ William thrust him off with a laugh. ‘Come on. When was the last time you unleashed it? All out fightin’ a mob, back against the wall, nothing but fists and fangs? Don’t you ever get tired of fights you know you’re going to win?’ There was a slight note of pleading in his voice.

‘No,’ Angelus said coldly. ‘A real kill, a good kill: it takes pure artistry. Without that, we’re just animals.’

‘Poofter.’

Angelus’s temper finally snapped. He shoved William backwards, and then couldn’t believe it when, for the first time ever, William rose to the challenge and raised his fists and shoved him back. Both their astonishment lasted bare seconds before Angelus grabbed a pick-axe haft, snapped it in two: and he had the youngster pinned, bent back over a coal truck with the stake against his chest. He glared down at his boy, who was still, incredibly, grinning back up at him, excitement and the rush of danger shining off him. Angelus knew he wasn’t going to kill him. Darla and Dru knew it. And by the look of him, William finally knew it as well. Family, it seemed, was family.

‘Now you’re getting it!’ William laughed again.

Angelus dropped the stake and took a step away ‘You can’t keep this up forever,’ he said with contemptuous ferocity. ‘If I can’t teach you, maybe someday an angry crowd will. That,’ he smirked, ‘or the Slayer.’

The young vampire sat up. ‘What’s a Slayer?’

Angelus smiled. ‘Come here, Master Spike. And I shall tell you a bedtime tale to scare naughty fledglings with…’