Wild Demonic Fauna
of London and Eastern England

The freezing wind blew a sudden gust that circled over the building: coiling around and then hurling itself against the roof, so that acrid coal smoke from the chimney came back in a grimy rush. Will squeezed his eyes shut and coughed, and thought for the third time about moving. But the wind had lifted the smoke off again so he just squashed himself closer against the brick of the chimney-stack, and shivered. After a second he cast a dutiful glance down into the street.

Three stories below him another creature was huddled, trying to keep out of the wind. At street level the gusts whirled scrap paper and shreds of straw from the nearest stable into malicious little tornadoes; still, it must be slightly warmer down there, Will reasoned. For all that it wasn’t one of the best spots: not by any means. Not somewhere where a little heat leaked out from a baker’s oven or the shelter was actually good enough to keep off the worst of the wind and the rain – all of those were long since claimed by the established street-dwellers. And they would defend them as viciously as Angelus defended his territory. But still, he pondered, she must feel warmer than he did. Must do or she would move. After all, she wasn’t obliged to stay where she was.

His stomach gave an unwelcome stir and he pulled his head back into what scant shelter the angle of the chimney was providing him, and wondered which of them was hungrier. She had looked miserable enough the previous night, when Angelus had first pointed her out to Will as the vampires headed home for the day. Drifting aimlessly along in the last lingering minutes of the dark, she had been, with clearly no idea of where to go or what to do; and casting longing glances at the trays of pastries being carried past on a porter’s head, or stopping to sniff the air outside a squalid cook-shop that was just starting business for the day. Until Will had wondered what human bitterness or human rule broken had driven her to such a case. But she hadn’t been begging, as Angelus had pointed out to him; nor was she desperate enough to give even the slightest tilt of her rather pretty head, to try and gain a coin by the oldest method known to woman. Not then. And she had been dressed in the faded print dress and rough shawl of a country-girl, with the mud of her home still caked on her boots from where she must have walked into town overnight. Give her one long day walking the streets in those boots, Angelus had said, and when someone offered her a bed – she would accept it.

Which was why Will was stuck up on a roof waiting to be the person who made that offer. Waiting until the streets were deserted enough that he could be sure no one would be around to see him make it, nor hear her scream if she should question where he was leading her to.

For the tenth time he ran through his plan, and he could see it all perfectly: He would stroll up to her, pretending to be heading for one of the houses further along the street, then frown as he saw her, changing it to a concerned smile. ‘Excuse me, Miss, is everything quite all right? Are you waiting for the Pembertons?’ Then there would be confusion when she thought he knew the people whose doorstep she was sitting on; acute embarrassment on her part; quickly standing up; apologies; and he stopping her. ‘No, no, I am sure there is no harm done. But pardon me for asking – is it possible you have nowhere to stay tonight?’ More shy explanations, as she twisted her hands nervously, and then he would make the tentative offer. ‘Would you care to spend the rest of the night at my home? I am sure my mother and sister will not mind; and then you can see about contacting your friends first thing tomorrow.’ A little hesitation possibly. ‘It is not far. And my mother will be sitting up, she always likes to have a nice chat with me while I have my supper, after I have been working late at the mission…’

After that it should be child’s-play to persuade her calmly into a cab and get her to the lair without anyone batting an eyelid. Getting a resistant human home alive was virtually impossible if you were by yourself, but he fancied he was getting rather good at the techniques of luring so that they did not resist. He thought he had planned it all perfectly, and was particularly proud of the casual mention of food waiting: that would be sure to swing her. Hunger was a great equaliser.

God he was hungry.

For all he knew she might have had a hearty enough meal last thing before she left her home. Whereas he… He hadn’t fed yesterday because there hadn’t been anything. And on Monday there had only been pigs’ blood, almost solidified despite being warmed up in the kettle, and it always tasted foul even if it was served in the best crystal glasses. Sunday, he had been in trouble with Angelus over that bloody fighting-axe, so he’d been kept short. The day before that… He groaned and shut his eyes; all things considered he felt she was probably the better off. Except of course that he was going to kill her later.

He shivered again and looked at the unchanged street, then fished out his watch and peered at the time: midnight. And Angelus had said one o’clock at the earliest; a fact which Will still had a sharp stinging sensation around his right ear to remind him of, lest he be otherwise tempted to forget and take her earlier.

He slid his back down the wall of the chimney, settling with his knees drawn up, forearms resting on them, nose buried in the thick fustian cloth of his sleeve.

Midnight: witching hour. Dru was probably whirling around some dance floor in the sparkling candle-light and the glow of a warm crowd of admirers, hypnotic black eyes befuddling every man who so much as glimpsed her. Angelus and Darla would be circling along the fringes like wolves, seeking the weak ones of the herd. The drinkers, the gamblers, the babblers, and those who could not hide their desires sufficiently well behind the thick veil of what society demanded of its acolytes. Not that they would ever kill anyone of note – the people at such places were all far too liable to be missed – but contacts would be made, blackmail extracted, information gathered. And there were always a few casual staff and hangers-on at the fringes, who could safely disappear without anyone noticing. Angelus might lure some gentlemen into a disastrous game of cards; Darla might persuade some lady that a pretty, but tiresome, French maid could be palmed off onto her establishment, never to be heard of again. And they would even make their victims feel they were being the clever ones whilst it happened. Or perhaps the three vampires would just enjoy themselves. In which case they had better bloody well pick something up on the way home. He was damned if he was going to do all the work to feed the family. Freezing up on a roof while they had a gay old time of it, not even able to catch a few minutes sleep or let his mind wander in case—

He guiltily stood up to take the three steps along the sloping roof, and peered over the edge once more: still no change. He returned to his place.

Not that he actually knew where the others were. He hadn’t been told – nothing unusual there – just boxed round the ear and set to catch the easy mouse that Angelus had cornered for him, and certainly not allowed to question his elders about where they might choose to spend the night. They had been dressed for a ball though: he had seen that much in the cab, before Angelus and he had got out to find the girl again. Of course he hadn’t contributed much to the finding, his role had been to try and keep up with Angelus whilst the master vampire hunted her down in ten minutes flat – even though twelve hours had passed and she was nearly a mile from where they had last seen her. Then he’d been told to wait until one o’clock before taking her, and the others had rolled off into the night to enjoy themselves without him, with the usual flippant remark about how he couldn’t go anywhere in Society in case he was recognised. ‘But never mind, Will, you don’t really enjoy that sort of thing, now do you.’ They would have found a way for him to go quickly enough if they had wanted him for anything. He’d been sent to escort Darla dozens of times, when she needed someone to carry her shawl and run around fetching her drinks, and Angelus wanted to go whoring in the Haymarket. Bastards. Still, assuming Angelus and Darla did catch someone, plus he would have his little country-girl, and maybe one of the minions would have been lucky as well – by any calculation there should be enough to last them all until the weekend at least. Which might mean Angelus would allow him the night off on Saturday.

He looked at his watch again: ten past twelve.

Dru probably wouldn’t want to go dancing again. But he could take her to the theatre or something. He tried to remember which plays were on, and realised he didn’t know. If he took the girl now there would be time to get to the Strand and catch the stagehands as they finished their shift; maybe bully a couple of tickets for something good out of one of them. The stagehands always had access to a few of the best seats. He rubbed his sore ear thoughtfully. One o’clock hadn’t really meant one o’clock; it was just a sort of guideline. With the wind being so cold it was already as deserted as if it had been one o’clock. Well, if it had been a normal night. And a few minutes either way weren’t going to make any difference.

He opened his watch again and a blob of rain that was more than half sleet immediately fell on its face. He rubbed it clean and another one instantly replaced it. Will swore and cleaned the glass once more, then sheltered it under his cupped hand: quarter past twelve. Angelus wouldn’t expect him home much before half-past one. So plenty of time to take the girl, stash her somewhere, get to the Strand and back – yeh, he could do it: easy as lying.

He grinned and stowed his watch, standing up with a shake of his head to throw the sleet out of his hair, glanced over at the street one last time – already half turned away to head for the drainpipe he was going to climb down by – and he stopped dead.

She was gone.

He couldn’t believe it. She had been sitting there for hours, all damn evening, and she hadn’t moved once. And now just when he was about to take her the silly cow had vanished. He peered up and down the street through the rapidly thickening sleet. No sign of her

Think, he told himself, think!

It was the sleet: that was the problem. She must have given up and gone to try and find better shelter. Sod Angelus and his sodding caution: if he had taken her an hour ago this would never have happened! Which way had she gone, though? Wasn’t there some rule: humans always prefer to walk with their backs to the wind? Only on another occasion Angelus had said a tired human would always go downhill. He groaned, and then determined any decision was better than none and haphazardly decided on the left. He took a few paces back to get a run-up, and leapt for the next building. A scrabble and frantic scramble to regain his balance on the slippery slates, and then he pushed himself off and ran along the roof ridge, trying to check the street below him as he went. He tripped over an ornamental finial and went sprawling, swore, picked himself up, and ran on. Still no sign of her.

Sod this. Never mind that Angelus always insisted that he use the roofs, he was too high up to see properly in this weather. He slid down the slates to the edge, found a gutter, and let himself down, dropping the last ten yards in an inelegant heap when his cold-numbed hands wouldn’t grip properly. He rolled up, looked about again, and ran on, moving faster now he was on the ground.

Where was she? Where the bloody hell was she?

At the crossroads he stopped. Still no sign. The sleet drove into his face and seemed to cut him off from all sense of the city around him. He scented the air deeply, thought he could catch a trace of her, forced himself to check again to make sure, and set off once more.

How had she managed to get so far ahead in such a short time? It was the bloody weather. If it hadn’t been for the weather he would have heard her when she moved. If it hadn’t been for the weather she wouldn’t have moved at all.

He rounded the corner at a lick and almost fell straight over her.

She stared in shock when he appeared at such speed and he quickly made to ignore her, pulling his collar up and running on past and down a side street as if he just had some urgent errand. He sneaked back as quietly as possible and peered round the corner. She was still where he had passed her: standing under a street lamp, talking to a gentleman who was offering her the slight shelter of his umbrella. A client? Had she decided after all that her virtue was worth less than a night on the streets?

The man was stout, warmly dressed in a thick overcoat, hat well pulled down over his ears; he stank of whiskey, expensive cigars, and sex. The girl seemed to smell afraid, delicious spice, but the wind was still gusting and kept catching the scent away from him. The low mutter of their voices was understandable though – the man was indeed propositioning her. And she was being shy: playing coy or genuinely reluctant, Will wasn’t sure, but he could tell she would accept in another moment.

Sodding hell.

The street was larger than the one they had just left, but still blessedly deserted other than the three of them. He needed to do something quickly.

All right… Will tilted his cap back jauntily and walked out, hoping they wouldn’t recognise him as the man who had just run past. He got within a few yards of the couple, then stopped with a theatrical jerk. ‘Maggy? What yer doin’ here?’ he bellowed in an incredulous tone.

The gentleman swung round and glared at him. ‘She’s taken.’

Yes she bloody is, Will thought, but not by you. ‘What’s Muver goin’ to say?’ he demanded of the girl, ignoring the man. ‘Does she even know yer out?’ He strode past the man and grabbed her arm.

‘Get off!’ she squeaked, trying to shake him away. ‘Leave me alone. Who are you?’

‘A friend,’ he whispered in her ear, and her eyes widened. ‘Yer ain’t half goin’ to catch it if I don’t get yer home right now,’ he said loudly for the man’s benefit, pulling her a few steps away.

‘Hands off her, flash-man. She’s mine,’ the man barked, and he threw down his umbrella. Will could have yelled with fury: not a client but a ruddy pimp who thought he had found himself a nice fresh piece of meat, and who wouldn’t be giving her up without a struggle, either.

‘Maggy, come on!’ He yanked her again, but she was starting to try to break his hold. ‘I’ll look after you,’ he whispered again. ‘You can trust—’ A fist appeared in his line of sight, which he dodged easily but he had to drop the girl’s arm. ‘Yer don’t want to try, ponce,’ he said with as much menace as he could muster.

‘Yer don’t say?’ the pimp produced a pistol from his coat pocket. ‘I’ve something that says different. This here’s my patch, and anyone who walks here without my permission ain’t likely to be walkin’ much longer.’

Will sneered, and with a broad grin punched the man in the face before his finger could even begin to tighten on the trigger. The man flew backwards, crashing against the area railings of the house behind them. His arm jerked up and the pistol fired.

The shot echoed in the empty street for a surprisingly long time, with a hollow, dull sound, as the pimp collapsed to his knees, blood streaming down his face from a pulped nose. His eyes met Will’s for an astonished second, then rolled sideways as he slipped unconscious. Will blinked, then came to his senses when he realised the screaming sound was coming from his prey who was bolting away like a frightened rabbit. He was about to start after her when no less than three windows of the surrounding houses were flung open, and the heads of several curious householders appeared and started to shout. Will hesitated another few seconds, as he watched the girl round the corner onto the busy main street, then he took to his heels in the opposite direction.

It started to sleet even harder.

A minion let Will in. He stared stupidly out after Will had entered, and then turned to Will in surprise. ‘Didn’t you catch anything tonight?’

Will growled and punched him straight in the stomach. ‘Shut your bloody mouth, Ruben.’ He swung again but the minion dodged and ran off towards the back of the house. Will snarled after him and stalked over to the drawing-room. He hesitated, then steeled himself and shoved the door open. The room was dark and empty – they weren’t home.

Will chewed on his lip for a second before going in to light the gas and get the fire going. He grabbed the box of matches off the mantle piece, trying not to look there as he did so: Angelus always kept his switch on the drawing-room mantle-shelf.

Afterwards he stayed crouched in front of the fire, holding his hands out to the feeble flame as it licked slowly round the kindling and lapped at the coal, trying to get some warmth back into his hunger-frozen frame. He became aware again of how much his stomach was aching.

It was Angelus’s bloody fault! If he hadn’t been told to wait for so long he could have had her. He rubbed at his ear as if bringing back the sting would somehow prove that it was Angelus’s fault. He had been told to wait – if he hadn’t waited he would have caught her.

He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself, then realised that he was still wearing his soaking wet cap and overcoat. He yanked them off and tossed them on a chair, thought better of it, and scooped them up and went upstairs to put them away properly. In his room he stopped and looked at his watch again: ten to one. He shouldn’t even be home yet. He stood for a while clenching and unclenching his fists, staring into space, then plucked a book off the chest of drawers and headed back down to the fire. He sat down in the most comfortable chair and tried to read; after he had turned three pages he accepted he hadn’t taken in a word. He threw the book down, and got up and started to pace.

It was Angelus’s fault. It was.

The fire still wasn’t properly alight: the kindling just smouldering sulkily. It was probably wet – the whole bloody world seemed to be wet. Wet, cold, and not enough to bloody eat. He hunkered down and tried to puff some life into it; succeeding only in extinguishing what flame there was. He swore, snatched a newspaper off the sofa, scrunched it into balls, and pulled the fire to pieces to begin again.

He had used too much paper and it suddenly flared up with a whoosh, chunks of glowing newsprint floating up and twirling like the rubbish had in the street. One large bit drifted into the room and he quickly stamped it out, leaving a black boot-shaped mark on the hearth-rug. He ignored it, and went and sat down, dragging out his watch again and twirling it by the end of the chain, but deliberately not opening it. He twirled it until the chain was twisted up on itself, as taut as it would go, then let it unwind back the other way. Then back again. Twisting round, and round, and glinting in the firelight like some child’s plaything. Or a mesmerists prop.

Trying to alter the future.

He couldn’t bear it any longer and looked at the clock on the mantle: five minutes past one.

Will put his watch away and dragged the chair closer to the hearth, sticking his feet on the fender. After a bit he pushed it back into position and got down on his knees to try and do something about the sooty mark on the rug. Rubbing at it only succeeded in spreading the mess wider, so he yanked the rug around, turning it so the mark was in the shadow of the sofa where it wasn’t so obvious. He eyed it sidelong, then walked to the door and tried to gauge how visible it was from there. After a little thought he went and shifted the sofa, so it was covering the mark, then noticed the side-table was now in the wrong place so he moved that too, and then the chair on its other side. He returned to the door and cocked his head, but it all looked so obviously different that he went and put everything back.

Twenty past one.

He thought he heard a carriage and froze, listening, but it carried on down the street.

He shivered, and went and sat by the fire again, cross-legged on the rug.

Another carriage; Will stood up.

He hovered by the door, took a step into the hall, waited, then straightened up and put his hands behind his back. He dug his nails into his palms as the front door swung open and Darla and Drusilla walked in; followed by Angelus.

‘Hello William.’ Dru ran over and pecked him on the cheek, then ran her tongue over where she had kissed. ‘We went to—’

‘Hush, Drusilla,’ Darla said, with a frown and a sharp little jerk of her head in Will’s direction. Will was watching Angelus.

Angelus had glanced at him then turned away to set his walking cane down on the table, with a sharp click as ebony snapped against marble. He proceeded to remove his hat, gloves, and overcoat at a leisurely pace, before he at last turned back to look at Will, and coldly raised an eyebrow.

Will swallowed. ‘I am sorry, Sire.’

Angelus’s expression hardened. ‘What have you done?’

Will tried to look defiant. ‘Nothing. It wasn’t my fault. Only I didn’t— I couldn’t— She…’

‘Got away,’ Darla supplied icily.

Will bit his lip, still not taking his eyes off his sire.

Angelus turned on his heel and went over to the study door; he unlocked it and held it wide, wordlessly pointing inside. Will grimaced and forced himself to walk over and in. He heard Angelus shut the door with a bang and then walk up behind him; a pincer grip clamped onto the scruff of his neck.

‘All you had to do was wait there and take her – nothing else. It doesn’t get any simpler than that, boy. What happened?’

Will winced and tried to stand still despite the fact that Angelus was beginning to twist his fingers as he dug them in, until it felt as if he was gouging Will’s backbone up through his flesh. ‘I was doing as you told me: I was waiting until one. But she cleared off; there was nothing I could do about it, Sire.’

The grip on his neck tightened, but Angelus himself moved round and appeared in front of Will. Will tried to school his face to stay calm, but couldn’t prevent a flinch when Angelus raised his fist and smacked him on first one cheek and then the other. His head jerked in Angelus’s hold, sending shock waves down his spine; the pressure grew harder and deeper, and the world darkened, red spots flaring before his eyes as Angelus started to shake him. ‘Don’t you dare try to blame me, you little tyke. Now: I am hungry, I am tired, and I am not in the mood.’

‘A-argh… I p-p-please.’ He stuttered with the juddering. ‘I-I-I… d-didn’t—’ the shaking stopped but the room was still reeling, and it was only the hold on his neck which was preventing him from falling.

‘What happened?’

The two words seemed to swim to his brain as if from a great distance, and it took him a while to push them into a structure that his mind could make any sense of. ‘Roof,’ he said carefully at last, ‘I was on a roof. I did keep watching her, Sire. I never took my eyes off her. Then it started to sleet. She buggered off. Then some bloody pimp tried to pick her up, so I had to go up to him, an’ I tried to persuade her away – I was doing it fine – when the pimp pulled a gun and let fire. Next thing I knew half the street had turned up. What could I do? Take her in front of them?’

‘Where did she go?’

‘The main street. She ran – screamed her head off. I couldn’t follow: I would have been seen.’

Angelus glared at him for a hard second, and then dropped his hold with a disgusted gesture. Will swayed. Then his legs buckled and he dropped to his knees, only just catching himself in time. A lofty, distant part of his brain, that was somehow remaining aloof from the creature who was actually having to feel what was happening, wondered if Angelus would give him a few seconds grace to recover. A kick to his stomach settled the matter the other way. ‘You little shit, one thing I asked you to do – one thing – and you can’t even do that. Christ, I can’t rely on you for anything, can I. You useless—’ kick ‘—waste—’ kick ‘—of space.’ Will groaned and curled in on himself. ‘What the devil were you doing on the roof? I will tell you what you were doing: you were lounging around, thinking about anything but your hunting, and trying to keep out of the weather.’

‘Sod off,’ Will muttered.

Another kick. ‘Weren’t you?’

‘No— Ow! Yes. Get off! Yes… Sire.’

Angelus seized him by the scruff again, shaking him with vicious little jerks. ‘So what were you doing on the roof?’

‘I d-d-don’t know w-what you m-mean, Sire. Why shouldn’t I b-be on the r-r-roof? You always make me g-go on the roof.’

‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph!’ Angelus hauled him to his feet, and Will found himself being dragged over to the desk. ‘Stand there.’

Will shook his head to try to clear it; and when he refocused it was to see Angelus had sat down at the desk and was facing him with a sneer.

‘Are you telling me, boy, that you have been almost three years under my tutelage and you have no idea? You go up on a roof to watch in this weather, and you don’t even know why that is wrong!’

Will scowled and rubbed at the back of his abused neck. ‘I didn’t know the weather was going to change, did I.’ Angelus just looked at him. ‘Well I didn’t.’

‘So we can add telling the weather to the long list of things you still can’t do yet. The basic skills of watching prey:’ Angelus began to count them out on his fingers, ‘You put yourself somewhere you can see and hear without being detected. You make sure you are out of sight, and most importantly scent, yourself. You ensure you can make a quick move to either follow your prey if it leaves or withdraw if there is a threat. You stay alert for rival demons or any other danger. And you keep your damn mind on the job!’

‘I didn’t know it was going to snow,’ Will said sullenly.

‘Well why not? It doesn’t just fall out of a clear sky. If you can’t sense the weather, boy, how the devil do you think you will ever learn to sense anything else?’

Will let his eyes glaze as the lecture washed over him. With the desk safely between himself and Angelus, he was prepared to just stand and supply the occasional ‘yes Sire’ or ‘no Sire’ if it seemed required, and otherwise let his mind wander to the miserable hollow in his belly, and the fact that it wasn’t going to be satisfied tonight either.

‘…I am not prepared to feed you for ever, William. If you can’t start to hunt for yourself you shall begin to go very hungry indeed…’

So Angelus and Darla hadn’t managed to catch anyone, after all. And that meant that unless they were very lucky it would be another couple of days before they had anything. The thought was sobering. Unless of course Angelus had something up his sleeve. He often did. Angelus always seemed to be able to produce something if they were really pressed. Will wondered how he did it.

‘…not a game. Hunting is an art form, boy. And one that requires your full attention if you ever…’

Perhaps it was partly magic, Will thought. Angelus certainly knew lots of spells. Or maybe it was some sort of mystical power that only came when you became a master vampire, although Dru seemed to be like that sometimes as well. She could mesmerise people and things. It wasn’t fair really: they all had special powers – why didn’t he?

‘…by taking up an angle from across the street. Because if you would just come out of your damn daydreams and pay attention to what I have been trying to teach you for the last three years…’

Or maybe it was just luck. Or a natural gift that the others had and he never would have. He scowled and glared at his feet. In which case, what was the sodding use of trying if he was never going to be any good at anything?

‘…you seem to think being a vampire is simply about feeding, fighting, and fucking, Will.’

Will’s head flew up. The last phrase was not the sort of thing Angelus usually said, however carried away he might be. He met his sire’s cold stare.

‘Sorry, Sire,’ he ventured.

Angelus shook his head. ‘Go and fetch my hat and coat.’

‘What? Why?’

Angelus growled, and Will quickly gave him a ‘Yes Sire,’ and turned to go.

‘And tell Darla that you and I are going out.’

‘We— I’m coming too?’

‘What, you expect to stay lounging around at home, do you?’

‘Er… no Sire, course not. But aren’t you going to thra— I just thought—’

‘Get out of my sight and do as you are damn well told!’ Angelus bellowed.

Will ran.

Will kept quiet as he trailed along beside Angelus through the slush filled streets. The sleet had passed and the wind died somewhat, but what was left seemed to have developed enough intelligence to work it’s way around under his muffler and down his neck. It wormed its way in with chilly gasps, making his cold muscles even colder. He hunched his shoulders, and scurried to keep up with Angelus’s long stride.

Angelus was heading back in the direction of Will’s ill fated hunting, so he could only assume that they were somehow going to try for the girl again – though he could not imagine how it would be managed. He cast a tentative glance at Angelus and half formed the question on his lips, then thought better of it and shut up.

At last they approached the street, and Angelus paused.

‘Um… she was down there before,’ Will said cautiously. He pointed. ‘She ran that way—’

Angelus knocked his arm down. ‘Do not make obvious gestures.’

‘Ow.’ Angelus glared at him and Will quickly put his hands out of sight. ‘Sorry.’ He scowled. They were standing in the deep shadow of a tall building, and speaking in the softest of tones that only another vampire could have heard, but Angelus was still being as cautious as ever. ‘So we should follow and try to pick up her scent?’

‘What chance do you think you would have? On a busy street? With a hundred other people having gone past since, not to mention carriages? On a bad scenting night like tonight?’

‘Oh.’ Well what was the point of coming all this way if it’s useless, Will wondered.

‘Up on the roof.’ Angelus didn’t wait to see if he was following but leapt straight up onto a low wall, jogged along it, and began to squirm his way up the side of the building. Will watched for a second, with a frown. Was this just to be some obscure punishment? Was he going to be left to freeze on the roof for the rest of the night? He shook himself and quickly followed Angelus: whatever his sire was planning for him, dawdling would not make it any pleasanter.

He rejoined Angelus, who was perched on the small roof of a dormer window studying the street below. ‘So, I left you three houses down on the other side. Where did you wait?’

Will carefully did not point. ‘Two houses further, by the third chimney. I had a good clear view.’

‘Oh yes, William. Indeed. By moving every time you bothered to look – yes you did. That would be why you were so successful. Where should you have been?’

Will pondered: so was that all they were here for? To run through what he should have done? ‘Don’t know, Sire.’ He stifled a yawn.

Angelus stared at him coldly. ‘Well I can see three places that would have done you, boy. You had better be able to find at least one.’

‘At ground level?’

‘Yes at ground level. We have already been through that.’

Will shifted his feet more comfortably and gazed around. What must the people in the houses below them think, he wondered, if they heard noises on their roof in the night? That it was the wind, probably, or pigeons on the slates. He smirked. How many humans laid bait for ‘the rats’ after hearing a vampire on their roof?

‘What are you grinning about, boy?’

‘Nothing. Down by that tree?’

‘Hmm. Carry on.’

‘What – now?’

‘Will, show that you have a scrap of intelligence and behave.’

Will ignored him and cast about for a suitable route down, jumping off the roof without another word. He stamped his way over to the sickly tree on the edge of somebody’s garden, making-believe a show of caution for Angelus’s benefit. Then he proceeded with a pantomime of positioning himself so he could watch the doorstep where the little country-girl had been huddled. He stared blankly at the balled up human shivering in the cold, and glanced at Angelus with a frown. Angelus sauntered up and raised an eyebrow.

‘How did you know, Sire?’ Will asked in awe.

Angelus smirked. ‘Do you want an explanation, or do you want to kill her?’

‘I was going to pretend I was—’

‘I thought you said she had already seen you? It’s too late for fancy lures: just grab her.’

Will grinned. He checked in every direction, scented the air, and listened carefully, then when he was as sure as he could be that everything was safe he streaked, as fast as a vampire could run, over to the girl. She barely had time to see him before he had pounced upon her and sunk his fangs in her neck. One long, heady, wonderful pull: and he felt her flutter under his hands, quivering as he sucked the blood from the artery with demonic force, cutting off the flow to her brain at the same time as he clamped her windpipe shut with his blunt lower teeth; so that within seconds she stilled under him and crumpled into unconsciousness. But for him: the blood rushed like whiskey down his throat to hit his stomach with a whoosh of fire, sending a jolt of pleasure through his whole body. He gasped and bit harder at the gushing wound, shaking his head to rip it open wider. He could feel the blood pouring into him like a warm flood, making his veins hum with power.

A hand landed on the back of his neck. ‘Enough.’

He lingered for one last illicit suck, then reluctantly released her, licking over the wound as he pulled out. Then Angelus pushed in between him and the girl, pressing a cloth down over her neck and tying it quickly in place to staunch the bleeding. He pulled the high collar of her prim little dress higher still, to better hide the bandage. Will licked the last vestiges of blood from his mouth and looked around, slowly returning to the reality of the dull, slush filled street. Angelus glanced at him, checking he was presentable. ‘Go and find a growler.’

Will nodded and ran off towards the nearest cab rank, where hopefully one of the four wheeled growlers, large enough to carry three, would still be plying for trade. When he was three-quarters of the way along the street he stopped abruptly and turned round – sure enough, Angelus was just disappearing in the other direction with the girl, supporting her as if she were drunk or tired. Will waited and watched carefully, determined to avoid a repetition of the embarrassing occasions when he and a cab driver had spent an hour driving up and down trying to relocate Angelus after he had moved his capture. He watched Angelus take her down a turning, and was about to jog off again when a noise somewhere off to his side made him pause.

He had assumed the railings beside him bounded some small park or garden, but as he looked properly he felt a swift tingle down his spine as his eye flicked over first one and then another stone cross: a churchyard.

There was a medium sized church, only a few years old by the look of it and still hideously brash in raw red brick and over ornamented stone. The graveyard was older to judge from the jumble of crumbling headstones, many half buried under a smother of ivy or lopsided in the tufty brown grass of late winter.

The sound came again: a soft chink, as of metal hitting stone. And now he could smell the sour, damp scent of new-turned earth. He peered more carefully through the railings, and in the furthest corner of the churchyard could make out a figure, standing hunched like a lanky heron peering down into the depths, beside a mound of earth. A white hand came up, as if to mop a tired brow, and as it did so the figure shifted slightly and Will could make out the unmistakable silhouette of a spade.

Hell.

Will looked back down the street, but Angelus had vanished. He would be safely hidden by now, waiting impatiently for Will to appear with the cab.

Will dithered, trying to make his mind up as to what to do. Angelus had always impressed upon him that this was the most dangerous stage of any hunt: when the prey was in your possession but not yet safely fetched home; when the risk of disturbance was at its greatest and your ability to manoeuvre most hampered. Any delay was adding to the risk and would count as serious negligence when Angelus reckoned up his sins.

For a second he was tempted to run on and pretend he had seen nothing, just find the cab before Angelus got any more ill tempered. But in his heart he knew there were a limited number of reasons why anyone would be digging in a graveyard at that time of the morning, and Angelus would want to investigate all of them. He braced himself and ran back to find his sire.

Angelus looked surprised when he reappeared so quickly, and then wary as the reason was explained.

‘Stay here. If she comes round knock her out; but if you touch a drop, boy, I shall—’

‘I know. Go on.’ He took the girl from Angelus, and watched his sire give him a hard look before disappearing at speed.

The girl stirred and settled against his arm, but he ignored her. Angelus had chosen a dark side alley that ran between two houses, nestled in just behind the bend of somebody’s garden wall, out of sight to a casual glance. Or it would be easy to pull the girl into a pretend kiss to fool any passing human into thinking they were sweethearts. And there were quick escape routes out each end of the alley, and two, no three, possible other exits across the gardens, should they be needed. Will carefully studied them all, his ears and nostrils alert for any hint of danger the while.

The wind had died, but the air in the last grip of night was turning colder again: a skim of ice beginning to coat the half liquid slush. Will glanced at the sky and with a jolt saw that it was already beginning to pale. He checked the girl’s pulse: faint and deeply buried – she was still far under. But time was no longer on their side.

There was a soft sound behind him and he swung around, alert to attack or flee. The yellow eyes of a cat flared at him from a shed roof, as the creature hissed and arched, its fur standing on end. He hissed back and the cat retreated slowly, one foot at a time, never taking its eyes off him until it reached the edge of its roof when it spun around and fled with a clatter into the night. Will disregarded it and continued to check his surroundings.

The air was sharp with frost, and the soft smell of the sleet had blanketed out the usual stench of the city. The blood reek of the girl was so strong it was almost as much a part of the background as the distant thunder of delivery carts, which rumbled along the busier streets all day and all night. He could scent the warm fuzz of horses nearby, the lingering musk of the cat, and he could still smell the earth in the churchyard. And from the same direction now: Angelus.

Will shifted and lifted his head, trying to catch the drifts. An acrid, sulphurous smell, which to be detectable at that distance must mean Angelus had changed to his demon form. But he could not tell what the master vampire had encountered to necessitate the change. Humans? Yes: several, of differing ages and classes, some long since passed by, some recent, but he could not isolate the figure in the churchyard. If indeed it had been human, because there was the stale scent of demon out there too – rank and venomous, of a type he could not place. It could even be another vampire. But not family. Strange. Dangerous.

The volume of traffic on the main streets was starting to rise, and the first faint cries of porters and street hawkers began calling. The smell of dawn was growing stronger, as the chill lessened with approaching day and the scent of the earth began to rise with it. Somewhere a buoyant blackbird, undeterred by the harsh brutality of the blackthorn winter, opened its throat for a glistening whirl of notes. The air, which had been still for so long, stirred again as a dawn wind whispered past. Will could feel a knot of worry forming in his belly. Angelus?

There was a high-pitched rowling sound building up to a humming yelp, suddenly cut off short. Will tensed, head swinging in the direction of the noise. The rowl again, mixed up with a second one this time, twining together, rising to a hissing yell. Will clenched and unclenched his fists, rising up on the balls of his feet. The stench of demon was overpowering now, and he could hear the thud of feet, the clatter of wood hitting metal. He hesitated a second longer, then dropped the still unconscious girl into the darkest corner and ran towards the sounds.

As he arrived at the churchyard at full pelt there was an explosion of dust almost in his face, and for one appalling second he thought it might be Angelus. Then the cloud settled and he looked through it into the enraged eyes of his sire – who was holding a stake. Angelus must have seen Will, and didn’t seem too pleased about it, but he had no time to react, being already in the process of whirling round to deal with his other assailant: a large, green, crusty demon. The demon made another high wailing sound, and Angelus growled as he sprang at it with teeth bared, at the same time as jerking an elbow up to smash the jaw of another vampire who was coming at him from the side. Angelus and the demon toppled in one direction, the strange vampire in the other. This cleared the way beautifully for a second demon – who charged straight at Will.

Will stood his ground, head lowered, until the last second when he slyly side-stepped and kicked a foot out to trip the lumbering demon, aiming a punch at its head as it came past. The demon was faster than it looked though: it pivoted before he could trip it, and Will found himself flailing off balance. He felt a fist connect with his jaw and was hurled back across a tombstone. He rolled and was nicely back on his feet in time to see the demon leap the tomb and come crashing down on top of him. It grabbed his throat and started to try to throttle him, and with a vague sense of insult Will realised it must think he was human.

He struggled and then remembered the move to get out of a strangle hold, thrusting his arms up between the demon’s and shoving outwards. It didn’t work so he clawed at the demon’s eyes, producing a stream of green mucus and a howl of pain as something knobbly broke off in his hand. He thrust the demon off and dropped whatever part of its ugly features seemed to have snapped, kicked it twice in the face for good measure, and grabbed for the spade, which was standing in the ground beside him. The demon was doubled over, screaming in agony. It was just straightening up with a flail of its arms as he smashed the iron against its neck, sending it sprawling again. He repeated the blow, thinking that whatever species it might be there were few things that could survive decapitation.

If he could just decapitate it.

He missed its neck and tore a gash across the thing’s temple, making more crusty protuberances fly off in every direction. It seemed a little subdued so he decided to experiment with what beating its brains out might achieve. He roared and brought the spade down repeatedly, hurling the frustrations of the past few days, weeks, three years, and a lifetime before that, into every blow.

A hand closed over his wrist. ‘It’s dead.’

Will ignored him and tried to break free. The spade was wrenched out of his grip and tossed to one side. ‘It is dead, Will.’

‘Give that back!’

Angelus boxed his ears. ‘It’s dead.’

‘Oh.’ Will looked down at his hand, which was covered in a green slime that was evaporating in front of his eyes. The demon was dissolving as well. He grinned. ‘I just killed a demon!’

‘Congratulations. And your prey?’

‘Er—’

‘I hope for your sake she is still there, Will,’ Angelus said pleasantly. ‘Otherwise the family will be so hungry they’ll be sucking your blood off my whip as I take your hide off.’

As Will tore off, back towards the alley, a window above him was wrenched open.

‘What is it, Algernon?’ a sleepy voice said.

‘Dash it all! Can’t see! Must be those dashed cats again. Fetch a bucket of water, Mildred.’

The little country-girl was exactly where Will had left her: she hadn’t moved an inch as far as he could see, but he dutifully checked her over, then sat back on his heels with a sigh of relief. Somewhere behind him he heard a splash as a prescriptive charge of water was chucked out into the night, followed by the bang of the sash being slammed shut. From the roof of the shed the cat was staring at Will with terrified eyes. He winked at it, and it slowly settled down on its haunches to watch him.

In the distance he became aware of the noise of feet running away fast. There were at least two pairs, possibly three. Angelus had been badly outnumbered, Will told himself, he had been right to go and help. Surely even Angelus must see that.

He looked up and down the alley, noting with alarm how much easier it was to see now. The blackbird, which had been shocked into silence by the fight, restarted its song in earnest.

There was the noise of hooves and wheels, and a black shape blocked the growing light at the far end of the alley. A low penetrating whistle carried to Will’s eager ears. He yanked the girl half over his shoulder and pounded towards the sound. The cab door was thrown open and Angelus’s face appeared, pale and blank. He frowned when he saw how Will was managing the girl, and helped her inside before pulling Will in as well, then knocked on the roof of the cab. Will sank onto the cushioned seat with a sigh, and closed his eyes.

After a second though, he opened them to look at his sire. Angelus seemed normal enough. He was examining the girl, feeling her pulse and the tightness of the bandage. When he was done he dropped her unceremoniously into the corner and raised an eyebrow at Will.

‘So… what was that about, Sire?’

‘That was about the most clumsy way to bring a capture to a cab that I have ever seen,’ Angelus said in a low whisper. ‘Have you forgotten that it is a human sitting up there on the box? A human who is going to remember tonight for a very long time, thanks to you. Do you think I actually enjoy sorting out your blunders, boy?’

Will opened his mouth to protest, then shut it again and slumped back in his seat. He folded his arms and glared out of the window, not looking at Angelus, wishing bloody death on him the while.

Dawn broke while they were still half a mile from the lair. Nevertheless Angelus had told the cabby a false address, so when he pulled over they got out, and had to make use of the long shadows being cast by the low early sun to make their way home safely. Will concentrated on helping the girl along, and didn’t speak to Angelus. The girl had come around in the cab and Angelus had drunk from her again, pushing her back to the edge of unconsciousness so now she swam in and out, too woozy to protest at what was happening to her. It was possible she didn’t know. Angelus walked a few paces ahead, his shoulders hunched; he seemed lost in thought.

As soon as they were inside, Darla appeared, took one look, and changed into demon face. She ripped off the bandage and sank her fangs in the unmarked side of the girl’s neck while Angelus drank again from the other. Dru skipped up making happy burbling noises and after a curt nod from Angelus clamped onto the sun browned skin of the girl’s arm.

Will hovered, watching Angelus intently, waiting for permission, and when he at last accepted that he wasn’t going to be allowed any more, stuck his hands in his pockets and wandered off to the further end of the hall.

Angelus looked up eventually, licking his lips. ‘Minions!’

The minions appeared at speed, having been waiting just below stairs all along, and the second Darla and a rather reluctant Dru had released their bites they attached themselves in their place. Will was studying a painting on the wall. The girl would be dead by now, the minions having to work harder for their blood. And Will was struck by the inconsequential thought that he would now never find out what had led her to leave her home.

‘Enough,’ Angelus’s command came at last, and there were muffled mewls of protest followed by the shuffle of footsteps as the minions complied. Will stiffened.

‘William.’

Will turned round, trying to make the longing not too obvious in his eyes. Angelus studied him for a lengthy period. ‘Go to your room,’ Angelus said evenly, and he turned back to the corpse.

Will clenched his fists, weighing up the pros and cons of arguing. Darla was watching him with a smirk on her face; Dru was licking her fingers for traces of blood, and smiling happily.

Will ducked his head, turned on his heel, and stalked up the stairs with as much dignity as he could muster. Only his belly gave a little twist as he went, and he honestly wasn’t sure if it was hunger or not.

In his room he plumped himself down on the bed and then wearily began to undo his coat. His fingers seemed stiff and clumsy on the buttons and he almost yelled with frustration when his watch chain got caught up and wouldn’t come free. But he screwed his face into a scowl and forced the stupid things undone, stripping off his waistcoat afterwards. He sat on the bed in his shirtsleeves, hunched over, hugging his hollow belly.

Dru drifted in, looking worried. ‘Is something the matter, my William?’

He sat up at once. ‘No, course not. Hello, love.’ He made himself beam at her and held his arms out, and she came and sat next to him, nuzzling at his neck.

‘Angelus is unhappy.’

‘No he isn’t. Angelus knows what he’s doing; nothing for you to worry about.’

‘Will, I’m scared.’

‘Well don’t be. The stars haven’t told you anything’s wrong, have they.’ He tried to make it a statement, although it was really more of a question.

‘The stars don’t always whisper me their secrets. Sometimes they are sulky; they haven’t said anything for days and days and days.’

‘And that’s because there is nothing for them to tell. No news from our correspondent in the stars.’ He kissed her on the nose. ‘I’ll look after you.’

‘Daddy looks after me.’

‘Well aren’t you lucky then,’ he said angrily.

‘Don’t be cross. You were clever and caught supper.’

‘Yeh.’ He sighed. ‘That’s right Dru, I caught supper tonight. An’ did you have a good night, Princess?’

She cooed and nibbled at his ear. ‘Not allowed to tell.’

‘Nonsense. You can tell me.’ He twined his fingers into her hair, pulling her around for a kiss. ‘Dru… Should you like a treat?’

‘Oh! Yes please. A birthday present for your birthday.’

He laughed. ‘Right you are, love, a present for you in honour of my birthday.’

‘Are you going to take me to the Bloody Tower, Bloody William!’

He groaned. ‘Dru, how many times. I can’t take you there, sweetheart: we’re not allowed to go there, the Tower isn’t in our territory. Anyway, I said a treat, never said it was taking you somewhere.’

She giggled ‘What’s it going to be?’

‘It’s a surprise. But it’s something special.’

‘Must tell, can’t tell, did tell, won’t tell.’ She stared at him worriedly. ‘Has it happened yet, Will? Do you know yet?’

‘Er, you’ve lost me, love. What’s the matter?’

‘No. Mustn’t tell, if you don’t know, mustn’t. Angelus knows. Poor little Will, all sad and bloody.’

‘Why bloody?’ he asked suspiciously.

She looked him up and down. ‘You’re waiting for Daddy. Naughty Will – sent up to wait in his shirt.’ He shifted uncomfortably and she reached out and trailed her tongue over his cheek again. ‘Bloody backed, bloody minded, William the Bloody.’ She panted and rubbed against him. ‘Bad boy! Mustn’t be naughty.’ But her eyes said differently. ‘Angelus will take you and crush you and squeeze you all inside out. Swish— thunk. Swish— thunk. Swiiiish— thunk.’

He set his jaw and stared her down and she began to purr, and to tease a finger up and down one of his braces. He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head slightly. ‘Swish—’ she said again, eyes wide with lust. ‘—thunk. Are you going to scream Will? Will you scream for Daddy?’

‘What do you think?’ he said lasciviously; then he grabbed a fistful of black hair and yanked her head back, exposing her throat. He lent over and licked her jugular, and a quiver ran all through her lean frame. ‘Think I’m goin’ to scream, love?’ he asked again, fangs poised over her windpipe. ‘Think Angelus can make me?’

She reached up frantically to push his braces off his shoulders and shoved him back down onto the bed. He rolled so he was on top of her, diving his mouth into her own. He felt soft velvet lips part and he could taste the last iron tang of blood in her mouth. He chased it with his tongue, lapping around her small human teeth, teasing up her tongue to seek under it, as she lay wide eyed beneath him.

He fumbled with her skirts, fighting through the heavy cloth and the cage-work of tapes and buttons that held everything to its immaculate outer show. There was a ripping sound as something tore under his haste. Dru moaned as he jabbed his fingers hard up against her, grasping and twisting a handful of wiry hair. He let the tips of his fangs lengthen and scrapped at the side of her mouth. ‘Daddy!’ she wailed wildly as he pulled back for a second to unbutton his fly.

He ignored her and thrust in, gouging the soft skin of her bare arms with his nails, careful never to break eye contact. Holding her with his yellow gaze, daring her to blink. She moaned again as he drove harder, and she started to move her head to the side. ‘Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!’ Any moment he expected to hear the sound of footsteps and feel a hand tighten on his neck.

‘Angelus!’

He let go her arms and seized her face, holding it like a vice. ‘Look at me,’ he ordered. ‘Look at me!’

He could feel the pressure building inside himself, could feel her begin to clench rhythmically around him as he built his thrusts. She snarled and tried to twist out from under him but he would not let her. And then he spilt, in pulsing jets that seemed to start right in the core of his being and force their way to the surface in surge after violent surge. She screamed.

He slipped back into human form and smiled, moving to kiss her tenderly on the forehead. ‘Darling.’

She smiled too, and for just a second she was looking at him.

‘Finished?’ a voice behind them asked.

‘Yes.’ He pulled away, and as he took his weight off her, Dru sat up and held her hands out, still smiling.

‘Daddy!’

Angelus hauled her up and smoothed her skirts down for her, giving her a peck on the cheek. ‘Off to bed now, Dru. It’s late.’

‘What about Will? He must come to bed too.’

‘Not tonight.’ She pouted and seemed about to speak, and Angelus grabbed her chin and glared at her. ‘You are not to be alone with Will again until I say so, do you hear, Drusilla.’

She looked at him uncertainly. ‘Because Will was naughty?’

Angelus paused a second. ‘Yes, because he was naughty. Do you understand?’

She nodded, and Angelus nodded back and released her.

‘Good night, William. Good night, Angelus.’ Angelus took her proffered hand and raised it to his lips, and she giggled and bowed, then threw a kiss to Will and twirled out, the long train of her evening gown swishing behind her in a slither of silk. Angelus shut the door after her, then brought out something he was carrying.

Will looked at it in surprise. ‘Oh.’

‘Well take it then.’

Will took the proffered tumbler, and went and sat on the bed again, staring into the red heart of the blood for a moment before taking a deep swig. The blood was tepid, sluggish, already starting to gel; but it was blood, and he gulped it down. Angelus came and stood over him and watched.

Will cast a glance up and then concentrated on the glass. ‘I didn’t think I was going to have any,’ he said when the tumbler was empty.

‘You’re no use to me if you’re too hungry to concentrate.’

‘Oh,’ Will said again, chasing the last drop around the bottom of the glass with his finger. ‘How did you know the girl was going to be there?’

Angelus took the empty tumbler from him and set it on the table. Then Will blinked in surprise as Angelus came and sat down on the bed beside him. ‘Humans are creatures of habit, Will. If they can, they will get up at the same time every day, walk along the same side of the same street, crossing at exactly the same spot, sit on the same seat of the same bus to work, and hang their coat on the same peg when they get there. In all of London that girl had spent the longest time on just that doorstep; to her it was the most familiar place London has to offer. So she returned to it.’

Will licked his finger clean and considered this. ‘So you didn’t absolutely know.’

‘No, we never know for sure – not without magic. But experience can teach us how to save time.’

‘Experience – experience I don’t have.’

‘I never said I expected you to. But I do expect you to pay attention, and to do as you’re told. You should be able to tell the weather by now. You should know how to pick a place to observe from. And you should know never to let your watch slip for a second, or to abandon a captive. I need to be able to rely on you sometimes, Will.’

‘You can rely on me,’ he said quickly.

‘Can I? Half the time you’re in a dream; the other half you are showing off to Dru.’

‘Well you show off to Darla.’

Angelus gave a warning growl.

Will sucked at his fang. ‘Will you teach me the weather?’

‘Yes.’

‘What happened in the churchyard?’

Angelus shook his head. ‘I would have thought you wanted to get this over with.’

Will shrugged, then abruptly stood up and turned around to face the wall. He heard Angelus get off the bed.

‘You never said thank you for the blood, Will.’

‘Thank you, Sire.’ Then he squeezed his eyes shut as he heard the swishing hiss of the strap whip towards him.

Will waited until everyone had been safely in bed for an hour or two before slipping along the corridor to Drusilla. She rolled over in her bed to make room for him, with a sleepy smile, and put her arms around him. ‘I’m not supposed to be alone with you,’ she said.

‘You aren’t alone, love: I’m here.’

They would both get thrashed if they were caught; but the odds were good that they would not get caught, and Will considered it well worth the risk. She asked to see his back, as he knew she would, and he lay on his stomach while she washed him all over with her tongue, like a mother cat with a kitten. He purred quietly while she did so and lay feeling sleepy and content. ‘Stripy tabby tiger,’ she whispered when she was done. Then there was a long silence.

He felt something cold drop onto his sore skin, then another, and he twisted round to see her still crouched over him, looking down at his back and weeping.

‘Love, what’s the matter?’ He pushed himself up quickly and folded her in his arms. ‘You mustn’t be like this, Princess. I’m all right. I’ve had far worse.’

‘I can’t save you,’ she sobbed against his chest. ‘You’re my little William, but I can’t look after you. He does this to you and I can’t stop him. Nothing can stop him.’

‘Hush baby, hush. I’m fine. Barely felt it. I can look after myself. Don’t fret yourself, love, don’t fret.’

She burrowed against him. ‘Oh Will, I am so tired, so very tired.’

He hugged her tight because he didn’t know what else to do.

‘Sometimes,’ she said slowly, ‘I worry that he might send me mad. Do you think he might?’ She looked up at him. ‘It scares me so much sometimes that I can’t reason properly because of it. You see, sometimes…’ she looked down as if she was ashamed to admit what she was about to say, ‘sometimes I think there might be things I have forgotten. Places I have been or things I have done. Wicked, terrible things. It is as if, however hard I try to be good, I know that inside me there is nothing but darkness, and it must surely find its way to the surface some day. I worry that some day I shall wake up and not know how I got here.’ She looked at him with dark, fearful eyes. ‘You would tell me, wouldn’t you, Will, if you thought I was going mad?’

‘Yes.’

‘Promise me, Will. You must promise.’

‘I promise, Dru.’

‘Make love to me,’ she whispered. And he did his best to give her in one day all the gentle caresses and tender affection that she so rarely craved. She called him by his own name then, and he tried to tell himself that it did not leave a hollow feeling in his heart as surely as had his earlier brutal taking of her. He cannot do this for her, Will told himself, only I can do this. This is why I was made. So he carried on doing his best until she could forget her tears. And after a while he heard her mutter ‘Angelus’ in his ear and knew that the horrible, cold cruelty of her sanity had been buried deep; and she had returned to the safe place where she was his playful, wonderful queen once more.

This is why I was made.

I am not him, he wanted to yell as he climaxed. But they had to be quiet so he just murmured her name.

Afterwards they played batting and teasing games until she snuggled back in the crook of his arm and fell quiet. He lay still and thought about getting a cigarette, but couldn’t be bothered to move. ‘So where did they take you last night, Dru?’

‘Twenty-eight pretty soldiers all in a row. Bang goes the gun – and then – there’s only twenty one!’

Will sighed and decided he wanted a smoke after all. He kissed her and rolled out of the bed, grabbed his shirt and trousers off the floor, and slipped out quietly. He looked back and saw her settling down to sleep quite happily, sprawling out to take up the whole bed, apparently perfectly indifferent to his having left. He stopped in the corridor to yank his clothes on.

‘…four of them. And two Tethroc demons.’ Angelus’s voice, low but clear in the still of the day, from the master bedroom. ‘Of course if he hadn’t joined in…’ Will sneaked closer to the door.

‘And the corpse?’ That was Darla.

‘If it was a corpse. The coffin-plate was elaborate, but there was no stone. No sign of a body either. The coffin was open, the lid tossed to one side, shroud hanging over a tombstone.’

‘But if it was a vampire why would they dig it up? Why not let it find its own way to the surface? And why bring demons?’

‘I wish I knew. Tethroc are hardly accustomed to serve as minions with vampires.’

‘There are some clans which exhume their fledglings, they consider it safer,’ Darla mused. ‘Or possibly some new cult that—’

The door was flung open and a hand grabbed Will by the ear.

‘So, Will – tell me three facts about Tethroc demons.’

‘I— Ouch! Sire! Tethroc? Wh—’

‘Well you’re not much help then, are you. What are you doing? Amuse me – be creative.’

‘Nothing, Sire! I was just— Couldn’t sleep, I was going to get a book.’

‘Hmm, continuing with your studies, no doubt. Very commendable.’ Angelus sniffed. ‘And Drusilla has been liberal with her favours again, I note.’

‘Er…’

‘Let me make a suggestion, Will: instead of eavesdropping or screwing your sister when you were specifically told not to, why don’t you actually get some rest today? That way you might even be of some use tonight, unlike last.’

‘I wasn’t useless. I killed a bloody demon for you! You needed me. You said so yourself.’

‘Did I. And when would that have been?’

‘Just now, you—’ He realised he had just confessed to having been listening. ‘I’m not useless.’

‘Ah. Because you killed a demon.’

‘Yes I bloody did. Stop treating me as if I’m just a minion, I can do things. I’m not an idiot. Ouch!’

Angelus tilted his head to one side and studied Will with an amused expression. Will scowled and shifted uncomfortably, his confidence beginning to ebb. After a bit he dropped his eyes. Angelus gave his ear a final round twist before releasing it; then he laughed softly and ruffled Will’s hair. ‘Don’t sulk.’

Will pushed his hair back out of his eyes and rubbed his sore ear.

‘Angelus,’ Darla said from the bed, ‘you are letting in a draft.’

‘Oh, how inconsiderate of me, dear.’ Angelus yanked Will in by the collar, and shut the door. ‘So, Will, what do you have to contribute to this discussion? Since you are up and wandering around during the day, and so very clever.’

Will swallowed, his eyes fixed on the floor.

‘Nothing at all? How odd. Especially considering you were only learning about the Tethroc a few days ago. Tell me, for example, how would you kill a Tethroc? Apart from by bashing its head in with a gardening implement, naturally.’

‘Tethroc: you break off the small horn between its eyes,’ Will said sullenly.

‘Ah! So you do actually know something. Would this be before or after you hit it with a spade?’

‘But I didn’t know— Before.’

‘Which makes the rest of what you were doing rather pointless, doesn’t it, Will.’

Will nodded.

‘What was that?’

‘Yes Sire.’

‘Exactly.’

‘Angelus, will you hurry up,’ Darla said. ‘I wish to be able to get some sleep today. Punish him and be done. You may use my crop – it is in the top drawer.’ She didn’t sound in the least sleepy. Will gritted his teeth. Angelus had turned around to look at Darla, who was indicating the drawer in question; she had sat up and smoothed the blankets out, preparing for a grandstand view.

‘Clothes off, boy,’ Angelus said without looking round. With great reluctance, Will started to comply.

Darla called to Will, ‘You arrogant little brute. Do you really think you could be of help? More likely you nearly got your sire killed.’

Angelus was still looking at her. ‘You worry too much, darling,’ he said calmly. ‘I can manage a few strays. Will didn’t distract me much, and he did kill his first demon.’

‘He has also disobeyed you several times, including wandering around and listening to his elders’ conversation when he should be asleep.’

Angelus turned back to Will, frowning, but he was smothering a yawn as he did so, and Will gave him his sweetest, most pleading look; he didn’t say anything but he let it stay on his face for a while, then turned it into a cheeky grin.

Angelus laughed, pulled him forward, and kissed him roughly on the forehead. ‘Get into bed.’

‘What?’ Darla snapped. ‘In here? Have you gone mad, Angelus?’

‘Not as far as I am aware.’

‘So you are just going to let him get away with this?’

‘I thought you wanted to get some sleep?’

‘I do.’ She immediately lay back down and wrapped the blankets tightly around herself. ‘But not with him in here. He has a perfectly good room of his own – make him use it for once.’

And have him wandering around the house again within half an hour? You know what he is like. Will, I said: get into bed.’

‘He fidgets, Angelus. And last time he kicked me.’

‘He won’t kick you.’

‘Yes he will. He has bad dreams and then he kicks. And what if he snores?’

‘He won’t snore. Will, if you make me tell you again…’

Will cast a nervous look at Darla and a doubtful one at Angelus, but there was no sign of forbearance from either. He swallowed and clambered onto the bed, trying not to shake it too much, or disturb the blankets where Darla was cocooned in them.

‘Move over, boy: I am not a broom-pole,’ Angelus boomed. Will edged closer to the middle.

‘How can you possibly say he won’t snore, Angelus? He is a stupid little fledgling, and like most stupid little fledglings he doesn’t have proper control of his breathing yet. I do not want him snoring in my ear all day simply because you cannot control him if you let him out of your sight for five minutes.’

‘He won’t snore,’ Angelus said mildly, getting into the bed and forcibly shoving Will even closer to Darla.

Will rolled onto his stomach and buried his nose in his arms. Darla poked at him from the other side, and slapped his elbow. ‘Put that down,’ she said. ‘It is sticking in my face.’

Will tried to move onto his side to take up less room, but dithered between which of them to face.

‘You see, he’s fidgeting already.’

‘Keep still, Will.’ Angelus made the decision for him, pulling him up against his side so Will found himself facing a very cross looking Darla. Angelus’s broad hand was planted on his chest. ‘Go to sleep.’ Will closed his eyes and tried to relax.

‘Angelus, you have no means of knowing he won’t snore.’

‘Yes I do. I have slept with him enough to know he doesn’t snore.’

‘I have distinctly heard him snore on numerous occasions.’

‘Nonsense – name one.’

‘Last week.’

‘Rubbish.’

Will turned his head slightly towards Angelus and whispered, ‘Perhaps I was purring.’

Angelus growled. ‘Quiet!’

‘You see! This is exactly the sort of thing I am talking about. Angelus, I am trying to get some sleep.’

Angelus ignored her, settling Will against himself once more. Will felt the sandpapery chin nuzzle against his neck, and then a light pricking, and he knew Angelus must have changed into demon face. The sharp fangs began to bore down against his skin and then he almost squeaked as Angelus nipped and held his scruff. The master vampire gave a little shake with his head – half playful maul, half warning –, and Will stopped his breathing and lay as motionless as he could. The prick of fangs retreated. Will felt Angelus move even closer and a hand slid under him, drawing him into the curve of Angelus’s body. He winced and balled his fists as his sire pressed up against his bruised back.

‘Angelus! He is fidgeting!’

Angelus sighed and threw a leg over Will, pinning him more firmly. ‘For Christ’s sake! Keep still and go to sleep, Will.’

Will lay still: but sleep would not come. He was squashed and feeling trapped anyway, and he was becoming increasingly aware of the drumming, drubbing ache in his back. It seemed to be growing worse with every passing minute, until it was all he could think about. If he had been alone he would have been tossing and turning and punching the pillow to try to get comfortable; as it was he dared not move. Dru’s soothing ministrations seemed an age ago and the long day stretched out in front of him interminably, with no hope of relief. After a while he licked his lips, because that movement at least seemed safe. And having done it once he did it again. And again.

‘Angelus, will you stop him doing that, it is extremely irritating.’

‘Eh, what?’ From the sound of it Angelus had just been drifting off to sleep.

‘He is sticking his tongue out at me.’

‘No I’m bloody not!’ Will burst out indignantly, and then froze when he realised what he had said.

Angelus had stiffened. Will opened a cautious eye and found he was looking into Darla’s icy gaze. He quickly shut it again.

‘And now he is making faces! I will not tolerate this, Angelus.’

Angelus moved at last: Will felt a tap on his back and Angelus gripped his neck and seemed to be hauling him upwards. Will flailed, then realised what was happening and scrambled over Angelus’s chest until he found himself squashed in the narrow cold strip between Angelus and the edge of the mattress. Angelus had turned his back on Darla and the prick of his fangs came again: much harder than before.

Even after the warning fangs had retreated, Will lay as still as he could manage for what seemed an age. Then Angelus’s hand came up and brushed idly around his ear. He kept quiet, but tilted his head into the gesture and after a while he had to stop himself from purring. It was an odd sensation to prevent it, like prickles building up under his skin, and it made him writhe against Angelus ever so slightly again. A movement which brought him to rest with something jutting into his back.

Angelus clearly now had something other than sleep on his mind. Normally in such circumstances Angelus would decide to relieve himself by grabbing Will around the waist and, without frittering away time on such delicate preliminaries as ensuring Will wasn’t going to be hurt like hell, just driving in. But with Darla’s critical aura almost humming over the bed, Will was fairly sure that wasn’t going to happen. Will smiled and reached down behind himself, and cautiously he began to rub Angelus’s cock. He half expected to be slapped off, but Angelus only nuzzled against his neck, scraping his fangs against the skin in sweet trickles of threatening delight that made Will want to squirm away from them and press further in at the same time. Unsure if this was criticism or not, Will paused for a second, and at once a sharp nip crushed into his skin. He gritted his teeth and swallowed his yelp, and returned to his work. The bite was released and a wet tongue smoothed and soothed over the sore spot in return. Then Angelus abruptly dropped his hand to Will’s own cock and a sleek fingernail was dragged up the length. Will opened his mouth and gasped a silent hiss. And as if in reward for still not making a sound, the fist closed around him and Angelus began to rub, following the rhythm Will had set.

They worked together: each matching the pace of the other in deep steady strokes, too smooth to rock the bed, but long and hard for all that. Pull after pull after pull. Will wanted to breath and sway in time to it, but he knew he mustn’t let himself, and the tension seemed to pour down to his cock, feeding from deep within to build up silently, like a head of water before the sluice is opened. And as he carried his tight hand all the way up Angelus’s shaft to press against the other man’s balls he could feel a similar pressure rising within Angelus. Noiselessly growing. Until, when the heady force was great enough that he felt it must surely suck him down and under into the swirling depths, it flooded out. He clamped his teeth shut and pressed back against his sire as he felt the cool stickiness stream against his back, even as he spilt his own.

The two men lay spent but still alert, as when an otter rests after a long dive, ever with one ear cocked for the hounds. Will knew that he was counting the seconds, expecting any moment to hear Darla’s clamorous tones; and no doubt it was the same thought that held Angelus poised. They waited. But no sound came and at last Angelus kissed Will softly and pulled him against his chest once more.

After a while there was a strange fluttering sound. Will frowned. It came again, followed by a small rasp, rasp noise. Angelus flinched, as if something had hit him from the other side. Very cautiously, Will turned to look into Angelus’s eyes. The bemused dark gaze met his own while the noise gradually increased in volume. Then the bed shook at last as both men silently began to laugh. Darla, oblivious and deep in sleep, continued to flail around, snarling and twisting as she fought demons in her nightmares, with a sound that was suspiciously like a snore.

The cluster of minions in the spacious hallway were lounging around in various attitudes suggestive of alert cruelty, muscular brutality, or bored stupidity, depending on if they were concentrating or not. The usual banal, bragging conversation was taking place, although in hushed tones so as not to draw the attention of the authority upstairs. The main topic seemed to be the chances of the various contenders in the prize-fight to be held in the cellar of the Black Dog later that night, with an angry discussion as to if decapitation counted as a foul in an amateur friendly match. Harold, the Head Minion, was stoutly claiming that the chances of Tommy the Teeth McAllen would suffer if it were disallowed, and few had the nerve to disagree with him. Murphy – who was the resident tout of Angelus’s household – was organising a book.

Will was perched on a step of the staircase, trying to ignore the distractions as he studied a volume bearing the title The Compass of the Hunt: an introductory treatise for fledgling childer. For once he was doing more than look at the most gruesome woodcuts.

With one hand he plucked at a damp patch on the knee of his trousers, that had been left by an afternoon spent alongside the junior minions scrubbing blood off the floors. While with the other he turned the page with a worried frown, lost in the three hundred and forty seven elementary classifications of costermongers. A pointed jab at his back made him sit up, and he leapt to his feet as Angelus and Darla swept past without another glance in his direction. Dru though stopped, and studied him thoughtfully. ‘Is it a story book?’

He shushed her quickly.

‘Well is it?’ she asked loudly.

‘No. Hush Dru.’

‘Well, what is it then?’

‘Dru, shut up.’

‘If you have quite finished, boy?’ Angelus said sarcastically. Will tried to look innocent. Angelus made sure every eye was fixed on him before speaking again. ‘Damon, Amelia, Ruben – you will be working with your mistress tonight, driving in the Water Hole.’ The chosen minions grinned and Will felt a twinge of jealousy: driving was a skilled and difficult business, requiring the craft of a master vampire to organise the pack, but the chase was one of the most fun forms of hunting. ‘Dru, you go with Darla. Murphy you are on guard here; I am sure your friends can tell you what happens at the Black Dog.’ There was a snigger from the others while Murphy scowled. ‘Harold, Lusius, you come with me.’ The two minions exchanged a glance and a quiet nod. Will looked steadily at Angelus; he was the only one not yet assigned a place. Angelus was studying the window; it was curtained yet it was almost as if the master vampire could see right through to the world outside. He seemed entirely absorbed in the slender crack of sunlight peeping through, his fingers drumming a complex rhythm against his leg; oblivious to the eyes of his household all fixed hypnotically upon his tall frame. ‘It is going to be another cold night,’ he said at last. ‘We need to work fast: the humans will be under cover early. Remember there might be some labourers around who can’t work because of the weather, and there is a ship just in, so maybe a few sailors. Nobody is to go near Steeply Street without my permission. Sunset’s in ten minutes.’

The hall emptied as everyone moved to go and get ready. Angelus crooked a finger at Will.

‘Darla thinks that after that little performance this morning I ought to just thrash you and lock you in for the night. Do you have anything to say for yourself?’

Will looked down at the book, which he was still holding, and played with a loose thread where the binding was worn. He shrugged. If Angelus had decided to beat him it would happen whatever he said.

‘Don’t sulk. Do you have anything to say?’

‘You said I needed experience,’ he said sullenly. ‘How am I ever going to get any if I don’t go out?’

‘Hmm.’ Angelus held out his hand for the book and studied the title on the spine. ‘Where did you get this?’

‘You gave it to me, ages ago.’

‘Did I?’ Angelus flicked through a few pages. ‘This old thing? It’s a couple of centuries out of date now. Still, the section on tracking is quite useful. Your tracking has never been as good as it should be.’

‘Just like my everything else.’

‘The main problem with your tracking is you smoke too much. It dulls your sense of smell.’ Angelus cocked his head and seemed to be waiting for something. Will continued to stare at the floor. ‘Well, well,’ Angelus mused. ‘Aren’t you going to give me some snappy retort about how often I smoke my cigars?’

‘Please let me go with you, Sire.’

‘Darla, we have a new problem,’ Angelus called jovially to Darla, who had just reappeared from the drawing-room. ‘Will has been possessed by an unknown demon. This can’t be him – he is studying his books and not answering me back!’

Darla smiled weakly at the joke. ‘Have you seen my newspaper, Angelus? It seems to have vanished.

‘You probably left it upstairs, dear.’ She frowned and disappeared into the dining room. Angelus turned back to Will. ‘So do you want to come with me tonight?’

Will looked up sharply. He was used to being told what to do, not given an option. ‘Please, Sire.’

Angelus seemed doubtful. ‘You would rather come with me than go driving with Dru and the lads?’

‘Yes.’

‘I would expect you to do exactly as you are told and not plague me with questions.’

‘I know, Sire.’

Angelus studied him for a little longer. ‘Well why not. You will stay close to me and you will concentrate. Go and put your coat on.’

Will beamed. ‘Thanks, Sire!’ He made to go.

‘Wait!’ Angelus caught him by the chin and looked at him again. ‘Are you up to something, boy?’

‘No Sire.’

Angelus frowned and cast a glance after Darla. ‘Trying to keep out of Darla’s way, perhaps?’

‘No Sire.’

‘I’m not sure. It will be difficult, dangerous work tonight, Will. No place for a fledgling. I’ve a good mind to send you with Darla after all.’

‘Please let me come, Sire.’

‘I don’t know. You’re still so—’

‘I can do it, Sire.’

‘You don’t even know what it is we will be trying to do.’

Will set his face. ‘You’re taking Harold and Lusius, they’re the best minions; I know it’s important and difficult; I know to concentrate. And I will, Sire. I swear it: so help me, I won’t cause you any trouble.’

‘I’ve had to listen to a lot of your promises over the years, Will.’

‘I’m not a fool, Angelus, I know this is important.’

Angelus took a pace back and stuck his hands in his pockets, head lowered in thought. ‘You have one minute to get ready.’

Will didn’t dawdle long enough to let Angelus change his mind a second time. He shot to his room, quickly grabbed his cap and hunting coat, checked he had his best knife – the one Angelus had given him as a reward for his first proper kill –, pocketed a length of twine and one or two other things, and dashed back to the hall. Harold and Lusius were waiting quietly. Darla had gathered her group in the dining room and they were pouring over a map and discussing tactics.

Angelus came out of the study, just slipping a fighting axe into the inside pocket of his overcoat. It was the one Will had been punished for not cleaning and sharpening properly a few days before, and he realised with a jolt that if Angelus had not bothered to check his work then his sire would have been going out with a dull axe. He played with the knife in his pocket and wondered if that was as sharp as it should be. He suddenly felt very young and stupid, and he was on the verge of saying he had changed his mind, he would go with Darla and Dru after all, when Angelus caught his eye and grinned. Will grinned back. And the four vampires slipped out of the door and into the night.

The vampires travelled fast, by silent back streets and hidden ways. All around them the greatest city in the world caught its breath and changed pace as it finished its work and prepared for the long hard playtime of the night; while overhead the red fretted pattern of the sky bruised into velvet black, spotted with stars.

As they moved eastwards, Angelus began to slow the pace. Once or twice he paused to scent the air deeply, and the others copied him. Will could smell nothing unusual, but the second time he saw Harold and Lusius exchange glances. Will tried again, but when he still couldn’t identify anything he clamped his mouth firmly shut and watched Angelus for the next instruction. They moved off again, more cautiously than ever. Will felt a prickle form along his spine as he realised they were skirting the very edge of the territory boundary.

It was a district of small solid houses, inhabited by city clerks and petty tradesmen: too prosperous for street dwellers or the loose brutality of the slums; too thrifty to attract beggars looking for handouts. Everyone knew their neighbours and everyone had a job to go to. Poor hunting. And thus the area formed a seldom visited no-man’s-land between the vampire clans. Will expected that at any moment Angelus would turn back. They pressed on.

Another two streets and by any definition they were off their own ground. A vampire caught in another vampire’s territory was not given a rap over the knuckles and escorted to the border – if they were found they would be fighting for their lives. Before they had been spread out, automatically fanning to cover as wide a space as possible, eyes always searching for signs of possible prey. Now, instinctively, the four of them closed up, walking pair by pair, keeping to the darkest shadows. Angelus put Will between himself and the wall; and Will saw him unbutton his coat, so the axe was in easy reach.

A stream of oblivious humans poured past them in either direction, returning to their respectable little homes after their respectable day’s work. There was a continuous percussion of feet on the pavements, and the susurration of breath and heartbeats all around them. Yet no one spoke, apart from the occasional driver calling to his horse. Each human seemed wrapped in a little shell of self-absorption, isolated in the desire to get home as efficiently as possible that cold night.

Harold gave a low whine in his throat, and Angelus made a short coughing sound to indicate he was aware of the danger. Will tensed, though he knew that whatever the others had sensed the issue would not be decided in front of humans. Surrounded by hundreds of their prey – who would all turn and kill them without pause if they had had the faintest notion of what walked in their midst – the vampires, perversely, were as safe as if they had been at home in their own lair. Without making it too obvious, Will tried to look about him, and out of the corner of his eye he saw a shadow jump the street from one building to the next. They had been spotted.

Will couldn’t see how many were following them, but he doubted it was only one or two. Angelus would not have let me come if there was any real risk, he told himself. He knows what he is doing. He glanced at his sire’s face and saw it set and hard, eyes constantly flicking to scan the street around them, hand resting inside his coat, touching the handle of the axe.

Will wished he had asked to be allowed a weapon of his own, although he knew Angelus still didn’t consider him skilled enough to use one. I’m a vampire, he told himself, I shouldn’t need anything but my fists and my fangs. He wished he could change.

Angelus suddenly made a hissing sound and turned abruptly down a side street, away from the humans. As they walked further along Will heard a soft thump as something jumped to the ground: between them and the safety of the busy crowd.

‘Change,’ Angelus instructed quietly, and then they stopped.

A tall, thin vampire walked cockily towards them, two others at his back. Will cast a glance back and saw there were two more behind them, and at least one other still up on the roof.

‘Evening, Angelus, fed up with eternal life are you?’

‘Bernardo! Came to give you a bit of advice.’ Angelus casually twirled his axe around by the handle.

Bernardo gave a wolfish smile. ‘Well, well, lads, aren’t we honoured. The great Scourge of Europe stooping to speak to us.’

‘Well, Bernardo, I really wouldn’t bother, but I just can’t bear to see any gang making fools of themselves – looks so bad for the reputation of the whole city.’

‘And of course Angelus is always so concerned with appearances – seeing as he’s all talk and no substance.’

Angelus smiled. ‘You’re looking a little lacking in substance yourself, Berni. Not been eating well lately?’

There was a stiffening in the vampires around them and Bernardo snarled. ‘Whereas you’ve been dining fine well – feeding off my humans as well as your own, you poaching—’

‘Now, now, no need for name calling. Been losing a bit of prey, have you?’

‘As you perfectly well know. Only your luck ran out tonight, Angelus, the only way you will be leaving this place is blowing on the wind.’

Angelus smirked and tucked the axe back into his inside pocket; he sauntered a few paces closer to Bernardo, who advanced to meet him. ‘So I am right – the ferals we caught wandering around my domain last night have been poaching off you as well.’

‘Ferals?’

‘Oh come along, Bernardo, a joke is a joke but we both know if I chose to poach from you I wouldn’t be so clumsy as to let you find out. And if there are ferals around it pays us both to see they are dealt with sooner rather than later.’

Bernardo shifted again and his gaze flickered past Angelus and over the other three. Will saw the strange master study Harold and Lusius intently and then the yellow eyes moved on to him and hesitated for a second, looking slightly doubtful. He straightened his shoulders and looked back as cockily as he could manage. Bernardo sniffed and turned back to Angelus, reaching into his pocket to bring out a cigarette case. He took a cigarette and stuck it between his lips with a casual nonchalance, then offered the open case to Angelus; Angelus took one and the two master vampires bent together over the same match.

‘How is Darla?’ Bernardo asked as they watched the smoke spiral upward towards the glinting stars.

‘Oh, you know women – spends all her time with her dressmaker.’

‘True, but things could be worse: at least the farthingale went out of fashion.’

Angelus laughed, and the watching minions – not one of whom was old enough to have ever seen a farthingale – all sniggered.

‘That your boy Ralph on the roof?’ Angelus said.

Bernardo glanced up. ‘It is. Not such a boy any longer, mind. He’ll be eighteen come the new moon.’

‘Will he?’ Angelus sounded genuinely interested.

‘Aye. Have to look for a gang to take him soon. Someone to knock him into shape – can’t be spoiling him at home for ever.’

‘True enough.’ Angelus eyed the fledgling thoughtfully. ‘So,’ he said, suddenly all business, ‘someone’s been trying to poach from both of us. Ever caught a glimpse?’

‘Never a one, but hunting’s been so damn thin it isn’t natural. Same for you, then?’

Angelus gave a slightly dismissive wave, and didn’t answer the question. ‘My fledgling found them last night.’

‘Did she! Drusilla’s still with you then? Useful girl you have there, Angelus; I’ve always envied you that one…’

‘I’ll be keeping her by me for a long time,’ Angelus said firmly, and Bernardo shrugged.

‘So what do you know?’

‘Feral vampires but using Tethroc – and we know what that means. Killed a few last night, but I’m guessing there are still more of them than you have here now. And they’re organised.’

Bernardo nodded and took a pull on his cigarette, thoughtful but not noticeably concerned. The two masters smoked quietly for a while. ‘You’ll be the first to hear,’ Bernardo said at last.

Angelus dropped his butt and ground it out. ‘I’ll tell my lads: if they see your boy they are to let him pass.’

Bernardo nodded again. ‘Obliged.’ Then he gestured to his minions and strolled off down the street. Angelus turned and began to walk back the way they had come, Will, Harold, and Lusius swaggered behind him. Bernardo had vanished, but Will was aware that five pairs of yellow eyes were watching them still, and five pairs of feet followed them until they were safely back on their own side of the border.

When they were well within their own bounds, Angelus sent Harold and Lusius off for the night and called Will to his side. He seemed cheerful and benevolent after the way the evening had gone. ‘So, my boy, do you know why Bernardo was so willing to talk instead of fight?’

‘Because he knew you would beat him.’

Angelus laughed. ‘I am flattered by your confidence in me, Will, but odds of six to four? Even Bernardo would fancy those favourable. Think about it.’

Will thought. ‘Well maybe he likes having you in the next territory. You are stronger than most: you being here means strays don’t cross over to his domain. And he’s used to you; knows how to get on. Perhaps he thinks an alliance is better than having to cope with a stranger. That’s why he wants to send Ralph to be with us, isn’t it?’

‘Partly, but something else. Something simple.’

Will kicked out at a stone. ‘Is it something to do with the Water Hole? He wants to have more access to it or something.’

‘No.’

‘I wonder how the driving is going.’

‘Do you. Come along, Will – think. Who did he ask about?’

‘Dru.’

‘Yes, but who else?’

‘Why did you let him think Dru found the ferals?’

‘Because you are an arrogant little brat: and if I had told him it was you, you would have been preening yourself in front of everybody; and I didn’t want him to know that one of my supposed big-bad-minions was in fact my idiotic two-year-old fledgling.’

‘I’m nearly three.’

Angelus looked up and down the street. ‘Are we alone?’

‘Yes.’

Angelus immediately clouted him across the back of the head. ‘William, if you wish to actually arrive at your third birthday you might do well to answer my question.’

‘Ouch. I did.’

Angelus clouted him again.

‘Hey!’ Will skipped out of reach.

‘What happened to “I promise to behave, Sire”?’

‘I am. And I don’t know. Because he was too hungry to think straight; because he was an idiot; because he’d got his bloody best waistcoat on and didn’t want to crease it. How am I supposed to know why he didn’t?’

Angelus shook his head in exasperation. ‘I am sometimes tempted to throw you in the river and hope you wash up in Ultima Thule to plague somebody else. Do you really think I would have walked in there if there were the slightest risk of him fighting? Now there was one very simple reason why he wanted to talk first, and you’d better tell me what it is before I lose my temper.’

Will scowled; Angelus seemed to be ignoring him. He stuck his hands deep in his pockets and played with his knife. ‘Because…’

‘Yes?’

‘Because he didn’t know where Darla was?’ Will asked carefully.

‘Clever boy. Never turn up with all your forces in full view, Will: leave them wondering where the reinforcements might be. Even if the reinforcements are actually the other side of town catching supper. If I had taken the whole gang he would have felt threatened enough to fight, with just the four of us he was sufficiently uncertain to stop and ask first.’

‘Do you think Darla has managed to catch supper yet?’

Angelus smiled. ‘Very tactfully put, Will. Want to go and find out?’

‘Yes please, Sire!’

‘Very well then, they will be at the Water Hole by now, I should think. You’ll manage to sniff them out I imagine; but if you can’t find them at least try to spend the rest of the evening constructively. And keep your wits about you: there are ferals about. They won’t tangle with you in public, but if they catch you somewhere quiet they will kill you.’

Will nodded solemnly.

‘And don’t forget to remind Darla that you and Dru are still not to be left alone together.’

He looked sternly at Will, who made a face but mumbled ‘Yes Sire.’

‘I’m sure that you will attempt to forget, so I shall make a point of checking that you did.’ Angelus brought a handful of coins out of his trouser pocket. ‘You can drop in at the wine-merchants and collect my case of brandy while you are out— Don’t you look at me like that. We can hardly give them a delivery address, can we. It’s on account but the night watchman will expect a tip. And pick Darla up another newspaper if you want to keep the peace.’ He doled the money into Will’s out-held hand. ‘Off you go then, behave yourself.

Will pocketed the money, muttered a rapid ‘Thanks Sire’, and tore off.

He hared away until he was safely out of sight and earshot so Angelus couldn’t call him back, then made a quick survey of his newly acquired funds, put two fingers to his lips, and summoned the flashiest looking hansom he could see.

The driver refused to take him all the way, dropping him off near Oxford Street and then trying to overcharge. So Will got his revenge by shouting that he would ‘See you in the police courts, you see if I don’t,’ which made the little old lady who had been about to get in after him veer off, and the fellow drove away with a string of oaths.

Will went down a side street, took a turning, and another, and the respectable crowds of the middle classes might have been as far away as the moon.

A labyrinth of by-ways, alleys, and courts unravelled before him. Swarthy men with hooded eyes lounged against every street corner and watched the passers by. Tripping young sluts hoicked their skirts high and their necklines low to distract from the mess the pox had left in-between. Sudden unexplained shouts and screams drifted on the air; a snatch of singing; a burst of ribald laughter – suddenly cut off short. Two policemen sauntered by, truncheons in full view, and the great-coat pocket of one was weighed down with a heavy bulge that showed they were not quite as much of an unarmed force as the respectable people liked to pretend. The streets were still thronged; shops selling second-hand-clothes and cheap food, all open; bars with lights blazing, as they would be till dawn. To Will’s nostrils, everything stank. But then it probably did to the humans as well.

He passed another demon, rutting with a young girl in a dark corner with nobody giving it a second glance. It sensed Will though, and swung round to glare at him with orange eyes. Will hissed and bared his fangs briefly, then moved on, knowing that the passing humans would have safely covered his scent before the demon had finished. If it should even bother to care about him once he was past. Because this was the festering rookery of Seven Dials, or the Water Hole as it was known to the vampires, and here, where the humans were packed like fish in a shoal, the sharks of the city be-sported themselves as they pleased. The overheated hub of the wheel of London – so Angelus had described it once – with the vampire gangs’ territories radiating out from it like spokes; but no one gang was strong enough to control the Water Hole. They hunted it in turns, and Will had been present when two packs chanced to meet, in vicious brawls or shouting stand-off arguments. Mostly, though, everyone managed to share, while any other demon species was tolerated as long as it did not actually kill the humans. For the vampire masters knew that even here they could not hunt too much or the mob would grow restless, the streets become flooded with police, or worse yet the Slayer be drawn their way. So the Water Hole was hunted as a fox will hunt the teeming warren nearest to his own earth: lightly and only at carefully judged intervals, to keep it as a reserve for hard times.

Will walked round a corner and straight into Darla.

‘What are you doing here?’

Will recovered quickly. ‘Angelus sent me to join you. Madam.’

‘Meaning you have made yourself such a nuisance to him he has pushed you onto me for the rest of the night,’ she said waspishly. Will blinked and let it wash over him, regarding her with a sneer which he knew would annoy her far more than any smart answer. ‘Well just make sure you behave yourself with me,’ she said. ‘I have more important things to do than deal with the blunders of an idiot fledgling. Drusilla is down there;’ she indicated with a languid tilt of her head, ‘go to her and do as she tells you.’

Will immediately turned on his heel and left before she remembered he wasn’t supposed to be with Dru, and if she wanted a polite answer she would either have to call him back or else not get one. There was no call, so she presumably had decided to manage without. He loped down the street to where Dru was standing and grabbed her by the waist. She squeaked and spun up in his grasp. ‘Daddy let you out to play!’

‘He did!’ He nipped her playfully. ‘Who we driving then?’

‘Two naughty girls,’ Dru said, tilting her head to let him come at her neck. ‘They’re made out of toffee – crack with the hammer; and we may suck on all the sweet little pieces we please.’

‘The jolly old Water Hole, eh?’ he said. ‘One great big sweet-shop.’

He gave her a final hard lick and then pushed her away and jumped for the wall of the nearest building, catching a window-sill and hauling himself up in a few swift moves. A girl, leaning out of an upstairs window, leered at him as he swarmed past. ‘Hey, cracksman, gi’ us a tanner an’ I’ll gi’ yer a better kiss than that long moll down there,’ she called, the words spilling out with a stench of gin and rotten teeth.

‘Save it till next time we meet,’ he called back, ‘cos in hell you’ll have the sweetest breath of anybody,’

‘Well sod yer, yer limp-pricked bastard.’ She flailed at him, and he laughed and carried on up as she half toppled out of the window.

With a bit of height he hooked his arm around a down-pipe and hung out from the wall, looking down at the rookery spread below him. After a while he located Ruben, up on another roof; and Amelia, half way down the street. Damon and Darla were out of sight, but they wouldn’t be far away.

Dru suddenly moved, flitting across the street in a shimmer of shadow, and as she did so he saw the prey. Two young prostitutes tottering along the street and already walking closer together than was normal. As Dru moved, one of them turned suddenly to stare at the shadow where Dru had been, her manner edgy.

Will waited a second and then pivoted on his hold, swinging out and then jumping silently onto a low outbuilding. He ducked out of sight at once, but he knew the girls would have started again at the half-seen presence moving on the edge of their vision. Dru materialised at his shoulder. ‘Grandmother is very cross today, we couldn’t find any yummy morsels to drive, not for ever such a long time.’

‘That’s because—’

‘Hush. Naughty William. Mustn’t talk to me alone. Mustn’t chit chat while hunting. Got to drive these pretty cherries all the way to the playground.’

‘Where are we driving them?’

‘Shshh!’ She put her finger to her lip. ‘You must spook them.’ She made a pantomime of staring down below her, as if following something with her eyes, and then she abruptly jumped off the end of the outbuilding. Will sighed then worked his way around and quickly got back up on another roof until he could see the girls again. He stared at them, shadowing along behind. The girls shivered and they kept looking over their shoulders, their sixth sense screaming at them that something was watching – but they never thought to look up. They were walking faster now.

Will jumped across to the next house. Damon was already up there and he nodded briefly to Will before re-locking his own gaze on the prey. The girls wavered and headed towards a small bar, but Amelia was ahead of them, lounging in the doorway, and she stared at the two and shouted some obscenity so they veered off and hurried onwards.

‘Where we heading?’ Will asked Damon quietly.

‘Purbrook Court,’ Damon said without looking round. There was a low rumbling growl, inaudible to human ears: Darla, communicating with them, and in obedience to it Ruben leapt across the width of an alley from one house to the next, and the girls instantly shied off in the other direction again.

‘Do me a favour, Spike,’ Damon said. ‘Block that side-road, I’m covering six things at once.’

‘Right you are.’ Will backed off and returned to the ground, going and positioning himself in a dark corner. He was trying to remember where Purbrook Court was. It would be some isolated spot that the girls could safely be snatched from, but he couldn’t bring it to mind, and he wished he had been present when they were planning the drive, so as to be sure to be in at the kill. It would be some way off still, with other places in reserve for if they couldn’t drive the girls exactly as they wanted. The girls had to be got well away from the crowds, scared along at just the right speed; the vampires never letting them pause to have time to think rationally. The pace gradually building until the prey would be running in terror. The pack chasing at roof level and along the ground, Darla letting slip her carefully placed relays in turn, on every side and behind, pushing them faster and faster. Closing in. And then…

Will licked his lips. The girls were still some way off though, and he started to let his mind wander back to Bernardo, and just who the ferals might be. He pulled himself together with an angry jolt. Concentrate! He had made a mess yesterday because he couldn’t keep his mind on the job: tonight was going to be different.

The girls went by, safely on the far side of the street, never even glancing in his direction.

Darla appeared beside him. ‘I thought I told you to stay with Drusilla?’

‘I—’

‘Come with me, and stay close.’ She led him down an alley, across a squalid court, criss-crossed with washing lines, and along another narrow street. ‘When I get you home,’ Darla was saying, ‘I am going to see to it that your sire gives you the biggest flogging of your miserable existence.’ Which would be setting Angelus quite a challenge. Will glared daggers at her back. ‘And if he doesn’t, I shall do it myself.’

‘Why?’ he demanded. ‘What have I done?’

‘What have you done!’ She rounded on him. ‘You— Stop distracting me and be quiet. Stand there.’ She pointed at a dark corner and then vanished up the street. Will slumped against the wall and tried to remember just when things had gone so sour between him and Darla. There had been a time, in the early days, when she had almost seemed pleased to have him around. She had never been what he would call pleasant, but she had at least been happy to leave him alone, and appeared to approve of him as some sort of playfellow-cum-nursemaid for Dru. He wondered if she would carry through her threat and persuade Angelus to punish him. She usually didn’t, but he could never entirely count on it. And if she decided to do it herself… he shook his shoulders with a shudder: Angelus was no picnic but Darla’s punishments were always unbearably painful, and usually meant he couldn’t walk properly for days afterwards.

A couple came down the street, lurching drunkenly, and Will stiffened into alertness and slunk further into the shadows. The two stopped and the man pulled the girl up against a doorpost. ‘Ooooh! She squealed. ‘Ohhh, mister!’ Will could see the man’s hand running up and down her back. He looked frantically around behind him and up the walls, but the brickwork was vertical, featureless, impossible to climb, and without a run up he didn’t have a chance of jumping.

Keep calm, he told himself, keep calm and still, and don’t change, and he won’t notice you.

‘Oh!’ the girl yelled, and then she started to struggle wildly as the feral vampire bit down upon her throat. The feral was looking down, concentrating on the struggling girl, but he was directly opposite Will, separated by nothing more than a few yards of filthy cobbles. He had only to raise his eyes a fraction and he would be looking straight at Will. Will did not move a muscle, praying that the stench of the slum was enough to cover his light fledgling scent. The other vampire smelt rank, older than Will by many years, and he was a big brute, rippling with muscle under his ragged corduroy suit. His clothes and hair were encrusted with dirt, his fangs stained yellow with old blood. He snarled and growled as he fed, jabbing a hand up the girl’s skirts at the same time. Any second now he would finish.

Will watched.

There was a high whistle – Darla’s signal for everyone to move on – and the feral snarled and swung his head round, staring up the street to where the sound had come from. Blood trickled in a little rivulet down his chin. Will knew he had perhaps half a second whilst the feral was looking away. He ran out, took four bounding steps, and jumped, the highest he’d ever attempted but desperation came to his aid and he sailed right over the feral’s head, just catching the sill of a window and scrambling up onto it. He turned around and flattened himself back against the glass, looking back down into the street. He was trapped, no possible escape route anywhere within reach, with the feral snarling down below, casting about trying to find a way to get at him. But the feral couldn’t jump for the sill while he was on it – for the moment he was safe.

There was only one thing to do.

‘Darla!’ he bellowed with the full force of his lungs. ‘Feral!’ His voice cracking on the second word. Then there was nothing for it but to stay put and wait.

The feral was still growling and prowling up and down, looking up at him. ‘You are dust when I catch you, fledgling,’ he suddenly shouted. ‘This is our ground.’

Will frowned, he did not like the sound of that ‘our’.

The feral suddenly turned away and made for a building a little further down the street, on the opposite side, obviously having made some plan to reach Will. But the second the feral’s back was turned an arm appeared in front of Will from the roof above. ‘Quick.’

He grabbed on and was hauled up, and in half a second he was out of sight behind a chimney. ‘Are you hurt?’

‘No Madam.’

‘Good.’ Darla was clearly thinking frantically, and cast an anxious glance back at the other street where their two prey were still just in sight. ‘I am not losing them after all this,’ she spat. Then she looked cautiously at Will. ‘William, have you ever killed another vampire?’

‘No, Madam, but Angelus has shown me how to.’

‘I need you to do exactly as I say, Will.’ She sounded very uncertain but she was reaching into her pocket and she produced a revolver and a small stake. ‘In a moment, when he breaks the roof-line to jump across, I am going to shoot him, which will knock him off the roof into the court behind. And you have got to get down there fast enough to stake him before he gets back up. Can you do that? I can’t go or we will lose these girls. Can you do it, Will?’

‘Yes Madam.’

‘Are you sure?’

He took the stake from her. ‘Yes Madam.’

‘Very well – ready?’ He nodded and she stood up and fired the revolver. ‘Go.’

Will heard a scream as he leapt to his feet and slid down the roof, jumped to the street, rolled, picked himself up, and was across through the archway into the court beyond it before the echo had even faded. In the corner was a black bundle, sprawled on the hard cobbles. All around him the rookery had fallen unnaturally silent, except that he could hear the sound of feet running towards him. Even in Seven Dials a gun shot attracted attention. He slipped over to the bundle and the feral snarled up at him, its hands held over its eyes. It writhed but didn’t get up, and he realised its backbone must be broken. He took the stake in both hands and held it over the creature’s heart; and then he paused.

‘Do it!’ the feral hissed at him, pink stained foam flecking up from his throat as he spoke. ‘Do it and they will avenge my blood.’

Will slowly lowered the stake. He could hear police-rattles and shouts from the street, but they still hadn’t come into the court. Not quite yet. He sat back on his heels and lifted his head. In front of him there was a half-rotten, lopsided door, and as he looked it opened a crack, and from a pale face there stared down at him two wary, black eyes.

‘Help me,’ Will said miserably. ‘He’s been shot an’ I don’t know what to do.’

There was a moment’s hesitation. ‘Bring him in.’

There were twelve curious faces staring up at him from around a long deal table. Men and women of various ages, seated on wooden forms, and to judge from the scatter of bread and cheese he had just interrupted their diners. Will shifted the feral, who was cradled in his arms and mercifully seemed to have fainted in human form, and said again pathetically, ‘Someone shot him.’

‘Quick, Fanny, fetch a stool,’ the woman who had let them in said. ‘Here you are lovey, set him down gentle like.’

There was a banging sound from outside, not their door yet, but the police had definitely arrived in the court and were knocking on doors; and from the cries of outrage from the other houses they were less punctilious than a vampire was about asking for an invitation. The inhabitants of the room exchanged glances.

‘We’ll not be having this – out the back way,’ said the woman, who was clearly in charge in some way.

‘What about him, Lizzy?’ Fanny asked, pointing at the feral.

‘Get a plank,’ Lizzy said. ‘Come on Bert, show a leg.’

A broad plank was produced from somewhere and the inert feral vampire was lifted by gentle hands and secured safely with several turns of a length of stout washing-line. Then the man called Bert grabbed the head end while Will picked up the foot, and they staggered after Lizzy who had strode off down a dank passageway. She threw back a tatty piece of sacking to reveal a hole knocked through the wall. ‘Through here.’ And she stepped in. Bert headed straight after but jerked to a halt. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘Plank’s stuck or somethin’. Can’t seem to shift it,’ Bert grumbled, and he twisted it from side to side, swearing through his teeth.

Will peered past the perplexed man and saw a thin girl huddled in the far corner of the room they were trying to enter. ‘Pardon us, love,’ Will called quietly. ‘Yer doesn’t mind if we comes in, does yer?’

‘Cor! He’s a polite one!’ Lizzy said, but the girl smiled thinly.

‘Come on in, handsome,’

‘That’s done it!’ Bert exclaimed, and they surged through. ‘Sorry ’bout that, Lizzy; must have got caught on somethin’. Couldn’t see in the dark.’

Lizzy went on through to the next room, where a ragged family were peeping up at them from their shared bed.

‘Come on through, why don’t yer,’ the mother said sarcastically as Lizzy elbowed past, and Bert and Will followed with the plank, then along another corridor and up several flights of stairs. They rested the plank on the floor while Lizzy opened a small wooden door at the top, and Will felt a blast of cold air.

‘Old warehouse,’ she explained, ‘this were for haulin’ stuff in off of carts or somethin’. Go along there.’ She pointed and Will saw a narrow walkway made from a beam of wood, crossing high above the street. Bert and he exchanged glances.

‘I’ll go first,’ Will said quickly, and he moved to the head of the plank. Bert was still looking doubtful and didn’t move to pick up the back end.

‘Oh yer big ninny!’ Lizzy cried at last and she elbowed him aside and took his place. ‘Come on, lovey, let’s give those bobbies a run for their money.’

Will grinned and edged his way out onto the thin wooden beam. He felt it bounce and sag under his steps, and then a thud thrummed through it as Lizzy placed her first foot down. He glanced up at her and saw her face set and white, eyes fixed resolutely past him on the building across the street.

‘Yer doin’ fine, love,’ he murmured, taking a careful step back. She smiled faintly and took another step, then another. The plank started to sway in their grip as the wind funnelling down the street caught it, and Will used his full strength and vampire balance to steady it; he kept moving, convinced that if they stopped for a second Lizzy would lose her nerve. ‘That’s it Lizzy, easy as podding peas.’

She gasped out a laugh. ‘Look at me, fine sight I must be from down below. Think anyone’s lookin’ up me petticoats?’

Will pretended to look down. ‘That there is, love, boldest young corner-man yer ever did see, and ain’t he got a smile on his face.’

‘Lor, an’ me without me Sunday drawers on, an’ all!’

He grinned at her, and they had covered another two yards.

‘Lor, he weren’t this heavy when we first picked him up, were he?’ Lizzy said after a second. She was stout enough, but she could hardly be used to such work. A full pint pot to her lips was probably the heaviest thing she was accustomed to lifting.

‘P’raps a pigeon just crapped on him,’ Will suggested, and the smile got them a few feet further, but it was more forced that time, and Lizzy’s face was beginning to turn purple. As they got nearer the middle the beam was beginning to bow under their weight.

‘What’s yer name, lovey?’ she said quietly

‘Call me Bill, pet.’

‘Bill, I’m not sure I’m goin’ to make this, lovey.’

‘Course yer are. Come on now, love. We’re over half way now. Further to go back than to go on.’

‘Are yer sure?’

‘That I am, love.’ It was a lie but Lizzy was too scared to look behind herself to see. Will peered past her shoulder. Bert had left, but he must have shut the door after them because it was closed again, and since there was no way that Lizzy could manage to take a hand off the plank to open it, going back was no longer an option anyway. Will, who was having to walk backwards and kept turning to check where he was going, glanced round again. As he did so he could feel the plank begin to shake to a new quaking, and he realised it must be Lizzy shaking with fear. He smiled at her. But reassurance or no, any moment now she was going to tip them over.

‘So this how yer normally spend yer evenings, is it?’ he called quickly.

She snorted. ‘There’s gratitude for yer.’

‘Well yer did seem to know the way out in a brace o’ shakes, I’m thinkin’ yer butters up all the boys this way.’

‘Yer’s a swank cove, Bill.’

‘That I am, Lizzy, love. An’ yer just got three-quarters of the way across.’

‘Did I? Oh Lor, I did an’ all.’

‘That yer did. O’course, we can check it with a yard-rule if yer wants to make certain.’ He winked. ‘Or will yer be willin’ to take me word for it?’

‘I’m willin’,’ she managed to gasp out.

‘Is yer!’ he said with a leer, ‘An’ here’s me thinkin’ I was with a right lady!’

‘Oy, yer cheeky bugger, Bill. I’ve a good mind to let yer mate here drop!’

‘Yer could, but it would be a right waste, seeing as any second now… I’ll be setting me foot… on the other side…’ Will said, and he felt his heel grate against the parapet of the other roof. He smiled at her and carefully stepped onto the slates, then quick as he could manage hauled the plank in and pulled her with it. She collapsed against his arms with a little sob. ‘Yer know what, love, I think yer might want to go downstairs an’ walk along the street to get home,’ he said softly, lowering her to sit down. ‘What now?’

‘Lovey, I think I’m goin’ to have to turn it up for a bit. Can yer manage on yer own?’

Will was hauling the beam in so there was no risk of them being followed. ‘Course I will love.’ He looked down at the feral, still safely unconscious, and swiftly untied the cord, freeing him from the plank. He took a length of twine out of his own pocket and, shielding what he was doing with his body, retied the feral’s hands. Then he stooped and planted a kiss on Lizzy’s plump cheek. ‘Thanks, sweetheart. Yer a treasure.’

‘Oh get along with yer.’

Will smiled and slung the feral over his shoulder, then vanished into the night.

Will was never quite sure how he got home. A great deal of effort was involved, obviously, but since what he was trying to achieve was so patently impossible he rather thought something else must have helped along the way. Possibly sheer bloody stupidity.

He had to keep hidden from humans, since even the densest would be interested as to what he was carrying and why. And he most certainly had to keep hidden from demons, even more certainly any other ferals. And that meant not just keeping out of sight, but not making a sound or a scent either. Exactly how did one avoid giving off a scent? Theoretically it was all to do with staying calm, not letting his demon form rise to the surface, and making use of the natural cover the surrounding humans provided. Except that he was avoiding the humans as well. And it wasn’t so easy to stay calm when carrying a violent, partially disabled, but still strong enemy, who woke up and tried to claw your eyes out every few minutes so you had to stop and punch him until he fell unconscious again. Then there were the small matters that the feral weighed a ton, stank to high heaven in his own right, and didn’t actually seem to come with convenient wheels or a carrying handle.

It was impossible. He got along for a bit by hoping that one of the others would turn up to help. It wasn’t an unreasonable wish was it? They couldn’t be far off: only a few streets at most. And then, when he began to accept that they weren’t, he started to wonder if Angelus might be far away. His sire always seemed to appear at inopportune moments when Will was involved in some piece of mischief – well now was the time for the reverse of that coin. Angelus could turn up now, please. He would be just around the next corner… Very well, the next corner.

Please?

Carrying the feral all the way home was out of the question. But he didn’t have the money for a cab, so he carried him some of the way. And then he still didn’t have the money so he carried him a bit further. Then a bit further still. He went slowly – well not much choice about that –; he checked he wasn’t being observed; he went by an indirect, quiet route; he approached the lair cautiously. He double-checked he had not been followed, and then he checked once more, and once more after that.

When he pushed the front door open at last and dumped the feral in the hall, Dru stuck her head round from the drawing-room. ‘It is only William,’ she called back into the room.

‘And just where has he been all this time? And what is that stink?’ Darla appeared and looked at the feral in shock. ‘What on earth have you done, you stupid boy? I told you to stake it!’

‘No,’ Will said simply. ‘Angelus will want to talk to him.’

‘You idiot. You absolute imbecile of an arrogant, self-absorbed, stupid little fledgling, what have you done? You brought this thing back to our lair. Our lair, boy!’ she shrieked.

‘I was careful,’ he said. ‘And this isn’t an ordinary stray. He didn’t run away although he knew there was a gang nearby. And he said, “our”, he said, “they will avenge my blood”. Angelus will want to talk to him.’

Darla stared at him in astonishment, a half sneer still on her lips. ‘You are going to—’

‘Yes, yes: I’m going to get the worst flogging of my life, Angelus is going to beat me into a bloody pulp and you’re going to stand by and laugh. Whatever you say, Madam. But Angelus is still going to want to talk to him.’

‘Very well,’ Darla said icily. ‘If you are so confidant you are right you may take it down to the larder and chain it up. Then you can come and wait for your sire to get home.’

The larder was full for once: the two girls tightly bound and gagged, slumped in a heap on the stone floor; Will eyed them for a bit, but there would be no feeding until the master of the household returned. Damon helped Will chain the feral up in the scullery instead.

‘So this is what’s been pinching all our kills then, Spike?’ Damon asked.

‘One of them, yes. But there are others as well.’

‘The Master will have something to say to him, I’m thinking!’

‘Yes.’ Will paused. ‘Damon, Darla wanted me to stake him in the street, you don’t know why, do you?’

‘Stake him? Well it would have been safer, I suppose. The Mistress gets all of a twitter if she thinks anything of hers is threatened. The lair included.’

‘But Angelus will want to talk to him,’ Will said.

‘Yes. I suppose.’

‘Yes.’ Will looked at the feral, dangling from the chains, and a little knot of doubt tied itself in his stomach. ‘Course he’ll want to talk to him. Why wouldn’t he?’

‘Yes.’

‘Yes.’ Will sucked on his fang. He somehow didn’t feel like going and waiting in the drawing-room with Darla sneering at him. ‘You fancy a game?’

Damon shrugged, but he went and got a pack of cards. They sat at the kitchen table, and Will chewed the inside of his lip while Damon shuffled and dealt. He realised he was feeling rather tired – it had been a long night one way and another. And he had as usual been working since the moment he got up, to get all the things Angelus loaded onto him done; but Angelus would want him again when he came home, so he couldn’t go to bed. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too long.

‘Where’s everyone else?’

‘Black Dog.’

‘Oh.’ Will remembered that he had rather wanted to go to the prize-fight at the Black Dog, but it suddenly didn’t seem important anymore. ‘Even Murphy? Angelus isn’t going to be happy about that. He was supposed to be on guard.’

‘Murphy is a fool.’

Will raised an eyebrow in agreement.

‘Have you got anything to drink?’ Damon asked; Will shook his head. Damon tilted his chair back and gazed at the ceiling. ‘I am so bloody hungry.’

‘You’re telling me.’

‘Give over! You took the kill last night, and the Master gave you some more afterwards, I saw him carrying it up.’

‘Oh yeh, life of bleeding luxury, I lead.’

Damon looked at him condescendingly. ‘You don’t know you’re born, Spike.’

Will stuck his chin out. ‘That’s Master Spike to you.’

‘Yes, yes. We all know you’re your sire’s sweet little blue-eyed princeling.’

He jumped to his feet. ‘Shut your bloody mouth!’

Damon blinked and looked up at him. ‘You’ll find out, he said calmly. ‘You’re – what – two, three? Another dozen or so years you’ve got being molly-coddled, lording it around at home, and then bang!’ He slammed his palm on the table. ‘It’s “out the door and make your own way in the world, boy. And don’t piss about near my territory or I’ll rip your head off myself.” ’ He snarled and looked away.

Will stood and watched him with a frown. Minions came and went: it was a fact of life. And a fair few of them he had seen die at Angelus’s own hands. It had never occurred to him to wonder what their feelings on the matter might be.

‘I thought you had always been a minion.’

‘Yes of course you did. And the stork just dropped me under Angelus’s gooseberry bushes, I expect. Well let me tell you: six months ago I was standing exactly where you are now. The happy little fledge who thought the world revolved around his sire’s dick. Then one night he calls me to him and says “You’re all grown up now, Dammy, it is time you experienced a bit more of the world, so guess where I’m sending you…” well I’ve found out about the world, sure enough.’

‘But… can’t you ever go home?’

‘I’m bound to Angelus for five years, after that— I don’t know yet. Maybe if I do well my sire will take me again.’ Damon laughed bitterly. ‘It’s all a bit academic, isn’t it. Do you think anyone has ever survived five years as minion to the Scourge of Europe?’

Will stared at him. ‘Why do you stay then?’

‘What’s my alternative? If I go home my sire will just send me back. Or stake me himself, for disgracing the bloodline. Anywhere else: well, it’s either try to find another master or live like that bugger hanging up in there. What would you do? What will you do, when it’s your turn?’

Will tilted his head thoughtfully for a bit, then he went over to a cupboard and fished out a bottle of whiskey and two tumblers; he set them on the table.

‘That’s reserved for the Master,’ Damon pointed out.

‘So I’ll take the beating,’ Will said. ‘I’m probably due one anyway.’

Damon shrugged and downed his drink in one.

‘Bloody hell,’ Will suddenly said, ‘I was supposed to get Angelus’s brandy.’

‘Looks as if you definitely are due a beating then,’ Damon said, helping himself to another large one. ‘So you might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.’

Will considered this and then shrugged and downed his own glass. ‘What’s your sire like, then?’

‘Not the bloody Scourge of Europe, that’s for certain sure. He’s just a vampire, I suppose. The territory’s up in Lincolnshire.’

‘Never been to Lincolnshire’

‘Sensible of you. It’s bloody cold and flat as a pancake.’

‘Good hunting?’

‘Rotten hunting. I’ll say this for Angelus: I’ve learnt a lot since I’ve been here. Caught more in six months than we do in a year back home.’

‘So you don’t miss it too much then?’

‘Sometimes it hurts so much it feels like someone ripped my arm off. But other times: things aren’t so bad. Sometimes I can go, oh, five or six minutes without feeling homesick.’

Will toyed with his glass and then swiftly finished it. ‘Your sire wouldn’t stake you if you went home. They’re not allowed to do that.’

‘You believe that if it makes you happy, Spike. Me: I saw my eldest brother killed by my sire when I was three months old, because he’d put the gang at risk by hunting the wrong humans once too often.’

Will digested this. ‘Angelus wouldn’t stake me,’ he said with certainty.

Damon seemed about to argue and then paused. ‘Maybe not. He’s… different, from what I can see. Possessive. I thought all vampires were the same until I came here, but I’ve seen different since. Things aren’t so on edge all the time here. My sire would have been having forty fits with ferals about; the Master is concerned, but he seems to take it in his stride. It’s as if he knows he’s got more rope to play with – can take his time. He’s powerful enough to do that. That makes a big difference. And he certainly treats you nothing like my sire treated me.’

Will was all ears. ‘How different?’

‘Well he beats you for a start. My sire never laid a finger on me.’

‘You’re joking!’

‘Not a bit of it. Used to be hungry quite often, though that was hardly his fault most of the time, shouted at me sometimes; but he never hit me. No, wait, I tell a lie, he threw me across the room once when we were arguing about a kill, but that was it.’

Will blinked. ‘How did he train you then?’

‘Ah, well that’s the thing, see: he didn’t. Not like Angelus teaches you. He just let me tag along and I had to pick everything up as best I could. He never really sat down and explained anything. The fact is…’ He hummed and hawed for a bit, as if making his mind up as to whether or not to say something. ‘The fact is, Spike, you’re better at most things at two than I was at ten.’

‘I’m nearly three.’ Will said automatically.

Damon started. ‘Oh, yes, you are, aren’t you.’

Will stared into space. He was thinking about the long, painful lessons, as Angelus – quite literally – drummed something into him time and time again, until he got it perfect. And he tried to imagine how life could ever be any different. ‘You’ve never been beaten?’ he asked again, still unable to picture such a thing.

‘You know perfectly well that I have.’ Damon was watching him. ‘The first time Harold called me up I thought he was only joking. Then three of them had to hold me down while he did it. And the Master found out of course, so then I had to face him. My first week here I got flogged four times. You were probably too busy to notice.’ Will shifted uncomfortably. ‘Oh never mind me, after the fourth one I made a pact with myself: Angelus wasn’t going to get to me, whatever he did. And if the others can stand it then why shouldn’t I?’

Will didn’t know what to say.

‘I’ve got a theory,’ Damon was saying, ‘I’ve been thinking about it and this is my theory – you want to hear it?’

Will nodded.

‘Theory is: vampires live for ever; so why do they breed – sire childer, or what have you? Just means another mouth to feed, maybe even competition in time, stands against reason when you think about it. An’ we’re demons, its not as if we’re all greensick with love like humans are. But… England’s the most important place in the whole bloody world, isn’t it, so every bloody vampire is going to want to live here. Plenty of food, soft living, modern comforts and all that, it’s as decent a life as a vampire can have. Even my gaffer’s place, it may be a fish-smelling dump, but at least its not France or somewhere.’ He paused as if waiting for confirmation, but Will was pouring them both another drink. ‘So every vampire wants a piece of the best cake, stands to reason. Only they can’t all have it, not enough food to go round. Just attract human attention otherwise. So the vampires that are already here, well, we’ve got to fight to keep the others out. Others like that bastard in there. And however much of a loner you are the best chance you’ve got of doing that is with a gang. Anyone tries to set up on his own the first gang that comes along is going to wipe his eye. You see my point?’

Will waved some sort of acknowledgement to all this, although it all seemed perfectly obvious to him, he’d just never bothered to put it into words.

Damon continued. ‘Now some of us get killed along the way. But the ones that get killed, well mostly they’re the daft ones: the clumsy silly beggars who can’t hunt discreetly or fight properly. And only the best live for long. But how did they get to be the best? Because their sires taught them, that’s how. And only the old clever ones know how to train their fledglings well in the first place. While the better the childer are trained the more likely the sire is to keep the territory, everyone’s more secure, can feed better, fight better, live longer, sire more childer, enlarge the territory even more… Know what that is? That’s—’

‘Natural Selection,’ Will put in.

‘Oh. You’ve read that bugger Darwin then?’

‘Yes.’ Will frowned and thought about it. ‘That’s true actually. It is Natural Selection.’

‘Course it’s bloody true. Stands to reason. And you: you got lucky, got sired into one of the best families going, got a head start on the rest of us. Me: not so lucky. Only way I can have a bite of this cake is as a minion. I’m going to make the most of it, mind, not like that idiot Murphy. I’m going to keep my nose clean, not get myself staked, and learn everything I can. Then one day I’ll go back home and start turning our family into one of the best and most powerful in England.’ Damon knocked back another tumbler of whiskey and set the glass on the table with a bang. ‘Going to rule bloody East Anglia, I am.’

‘Make sure you eat all the dons in Cambridge,’ Will said perfunctorily. ‘So if it’s Natural Selection then why are you here? You’re not part of our bloodline: why should Angelus share his food with you, why not just his own childer?’

Damon looked at him slightly oddly, then abruptly jabbed a finger at Will’s chest. ‘Simple: because of you. You’re young, right. Bloody nuisance most of the time – no insult intended, Master Spike and all that, but you are. All fledglings are. And you just eat without being any use defending the territory or hunting. So where’s Angelus going to get help from? He can’t do everything by himself: can’t cover the ground to guard it for a start, can’t drive properly without a big enough gang, can’t do anything. And siring childer’s no use: just means more bloody useless fledglings around. So he needs minions. Like me – old enough to hunt and fight but not strong enough to be a threat to him. He keeps us for a few years and then merrily sends us on our way. Gets some new ones. Which gives Angelus the time he needs to get you trained up to actually be of some use to him; trained to even his perfectionist-heart’s desire. Meanwhile, my sire isn’t going to poach from Angelus while I’m here, is he, and with luck he gets me back in a few years better trained than he could have ever done himself. Everyone wins.’ He tilted his chair back again and looked at Will from under half closed eyes.

‘Except for you and me, who just have to put up with it because we’re the ones it’s actually happening to.’

‘True. Anyway, that’s my theory.’

‘So where will Angelus send me to get me better trained than I could be here?’ Will asked.

‘That I do not know. Some decrepit old bat with a few hundred more years under his belt than Angelus has, I suppose. Dracula or someone.’

‘Who’s Dracula?’

‘Old master – in Europe somewhere. Got a fancy reputation.’

‘Never heard of him.’

‘Ask Angelus, if you can catch him in a good mood. Maybe he’ll tell you.’

‘Maybe.’ Will looked at the half-empty whiskey bottle, and the non-existent brandy bottles that should have been alongside it, and thought that catching Angelus in a good mood was probably going to have to be postponed for a while. He yawned. ‘Where is Angelus?’ he said. ‘It’s getting light out.’

It wasn’t getting light: by any definition it already was light; and as he climbed the back-stairs Will had the uneasy realisation that Angelus must have been home for hours. In which case Darla would already have treated him to a tirade – suitably embroidered – about Will’s numerous shortcomings. The only mystery was why Angelus hadn’t already summoned him for a dressing-down. The delay did not bode well. Will took a deep breath and cautiously poked his head round the drawing-room door.

The face that met his gaze was cold. ‘Where have you been?’

‘Only in the kitchen.’

‘You were told to come back up here.’

‘Was I?’

She turned her back on him.

‘Um, Madam… where’s Angelus?’

‘Hush, William,’ Drusilla said, and he turned to see her seated at a small table, laying out her tarot cards. ‘Come and sit with Mummy, bloody William.’ She patted the chair beside her.

‘Drusilla, how many times do you have to be told – you are not to use that word,’ Darla snapped.

Dru looked at Will and mouthed Why not? He shrugged and went over to her and kissed her on the nose. She giggled.

‘Stop that, the pair of you.’

Will put his arms around Dru. ‘Where’s Angelus?’ he demanded.

‘Be quiet.’

‘Dru, do you know?’

‘I said be quiet!’ Darla almost shrieked, and Dru and Will stared at her in shock. Then she seemed to get a hold on herself. ‘Be quiet, both of you. Sit down and don’t be troublesome for once, Will. It is not your place to question where your sire is.’

Will frowned, but he sat down, folding his arms on the table and resting his chin on his sleeve, watching Dru place her cards. She laid each one out with a languid gesture, then let her hand flutter over it briefly, alert with the tension of a kestrel hovering over the long grass, when it has seen some tiny stirring that may betray a mouse. But each time it was as if she had decided the signs had only been a ripple of the wind after all, and she would swoop away back to the pack for the next card.

When she set the final card out she paused, and peered at the whole display for a moment, a little moue of thought on her face, then she abruptly swept the cards into a heap and began to shuffle them again: all without saying a word.

‘Can I pick one?’ he asked softly, with a furtive glance at Darla to make sure she hadn’t heard him speak. But Darla seemed lost in thought, standing in the dusky light near the curtained window, toying with a small paper knife with an onyx blade, her head bowed. Dru smiled and fanned the pack out for him and he selected one at random and handed it to her without looking at it. ‘Where is Angelus?’ he whispered.

‘Will, if I have to tell you to be quiet again – I shall gag you,’ Darla said with pleasant menace.

This threat was sufficiently unusual that Will decided to be quiet. Dru was studying his card with a curious expression.

‘Well, girl?’ Darla suddenly rounded on her. ‘Have you seen anything?’

Dru gave Will another penetrating look and then abruptly returned the card to the middle of the deck. ‘No,’ she said primly. ‘No news today.’

The mantle clock suddenly chimed the hour, making Will start as the high metallic ting, ting sounded around the quiet room: nine o’clock.

Will gave Darla a pleading look, although he knew it was very unlikely to achieve anything.

‘Very well,’ Darla set the knife down with a snap. ‘This has gone on for long enough. Boy, stand up – you were with Angelus last night, tell me what happened.’

Will stood, feeling like a schoolboy having to say his lessons to a new teacher and rather wishing the usual one were there instead. He related the events of the night as best he could remember them, only leaving out the joke about Darla’s dressmaker. Darla listened in silence until he finished.

‘And he never told you what he intended to do next?’

‘No Madam. I suppose he didn’t think it my place to know,’ he said crossly. She stared him down until he dropped his eyes, and then she turned away. He made a face at her back. ‘Perhaps he’s just got caught somewhere by the sun,’ Will suggested. ‘Perhaps he went to his club or the fight and lost track of the time.’

‘Did I ask for your opinion, boy?’

‘No, but I thought you might want to hear it, seeing as you’re worried about him.’

‘I am not worried about him. Angelus is perfectly capable of looking after himself. It is your own hide you should be more concerned about, boy.’

Will considered the stiffly upright set of her back. She’s almost three hundred years old, he thought, and she’s terrified about something. Perhaps I should be too.

There was a discreet rap at the door and Darla and Will jumped again; only Dru seemed unconcerned, beginning to lay out her cards once more. ‘Yes?’ Darla called crossly.

The door was pushed open and Damon stepped through a single pace, then waited, glancing curiously from one to the other of them. ‘I beg your pardon, Mistress, but I wasn’t sure if you knew or not…’ He trailed off and shot a quick glance at Will, as if wanting to check that he too was listening.

‘Spit it out, minion.’

‘Are you aware, Mistress, that none of the others are in the house?’

Darla stared at him blankly. ‘Amelia and Ruben have not returned from the fight?’

‘Seemingly not, Mistress.’ He glanced at Will again.

‘And Murphy,’ Will said for him. ‘Murphy broke orders and went as well.’

‘You checked the dormitory?’ Darla said, her face narrowing in calculation.

‘Yes Mistress. It is empty. Nor are Harold or Lusius in their rooms.’ His eyes scanned the room again, and Will realised that he was looking for Angelus.

‘All of them?’ Darla repeated.

‘So it appears, Mistress.’

Darla looked from Will to Damon and back. ‘Well Harold and Lusius are with Angelus—’

‘No they aren’t.’ Everyone looked at Will; he squared his shoulders and went on. ‘They aren’t. He sent them away just before he sent me. He told them to check the park.’

‘Harold’s not with the Master?’ Damon said softly to himself, and Will looked at him sharply and wondered what Harold was to Damon that he should say it.

Darla seemed shocked into silence for a while. ‘Angelus is alone. And none of the others have returned… Angelus is alone.’ Her voice fell very quiet, and Will’s stomach somersaulted. Automatically he looked at Dru, expecting that she would scream or faint, or do something. But she still sat calmly, setting out her cards.

‘Drusilla—’ Darla began.

‘I don’t see anything, Darla,’ Dru said dreamily.

‘Never mind that. Come with me, I need your help.’ She reached out and grabbed Dru’s wrist, hauling her out of the chair with sudden purpose. Dru’s sleeve was yanked across the table, spilling the cards onto the floor, and her eyes widened in shock and she flailed at them with a horrified look; Will started towards her but Darla had already dragged Dru half way across the room. Dru writhed, but made no noise of protest as she was led out and marched to the staircase. ‘Stay here!’ Darla barked at Will and Damon as she left, and then she and Dru disappeared upstairs.

Will forced himself to unclench his fists, and then he pushed past Damon and started to carefully gather up the fallen cards. Damon watched him.

‘Do you feel anything?’ Damon said suddenly. ‘You would probably feel it if anything had really happened to your sire.’

Will picked up the last card and pushed the pack together, then he stood up and tapped it against the table to square it off, carefully knocking each edge in turn.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

‘No.’ He didn’t look up. ‘I never do though.’

‘Perhaps you’re still too young.’

Will ran his thumb along the smooth, velvety edge of the pack, where the cards were soft and a little worn from handling. ‘But I think I would know if he were dead. And Dru would, for sure.’

‘Yes.’ Damon sounded more thoughtful than relieved. ‘Yes of course Mistress Drusilla would. Nothing much can be the matter if she isn’t worried.’ He glanced out of the still open door and up the stairs where Darla and Drusilla had gone, as if seeking to reconfirm the fact.

Will almost said that Dru didn’t always see things, nor relay all those she did see, but he just quietly set the pack of cards down in the middle of the table, and kept the remark to himself. ‘Yes, Dru would be worried if there was any reason to be – she has the sight,’ he stated firmly instead. ‘And so would Darla. She always knows if anything is the matter with Angelus.’ Neither of them pointed out that Darla was indeed disturbed.

At that moment Darla reappeared, and Will felt a cold shiver run down his spine at what she was wearing. She had put on a dress of black bombazine, the skirt edged with a broad band of crape to indicate a widow in deep mourning; and she was drawing on a pair of black leather gloves. Dru came just behind her, carrying a cap, bonnet and umbrella. He tried to tell himself that it was all eminently practical, and was only to ensure that no sun could penetrate the material to reach her skin, but it still wasn’t a reassuring sight.

‘Minion,’ Darla said as she carefully set the widow’s cap with its long lace bands into position, ‘go and call the nearest street idler to the door. Tell him he may have sixpence if he fetches a cab within the next five minutes. It is to pull right up to the door.’

‘Yes Mistress.’ Damon inclined his head and slipped past her.

‘Give me my bonnet, Drusilla. Now,’ Darla looked with fierce eyes at Will and Dru, ‘I am going out. None of you are to set foot out of the front door for any reason, or answer it if anyone calls, and above all you are not to let anyone in. One of you should stay awake whilst the other two sleep, but you are to take it in turns. Do you hear me, Will,’ she raised her voice slightly, ‘you are to see to it that each of you gets the same amount of rest.’

‘Yes Madam.’

‘I am relying on you, William. Do not disobey me. Now take Drusilla’s hand – ’ Will at once felt Dru’s cold little hand slip into his own, ‘you will both be perfectly safe,’ Darla continued, ‘do exactly as I have told you and there will be nothing to worry about.’

Will looked down at the tiny golden-haired woman in front of him as she donned the stiff bonnet, and he was hit by a sudden urge to say something. To reassure her that she could rely on him: that he and Dru, and for that matter Damon, would be fine on their own, and that at least worrying about them was not something that need concern her. But he could not think how to say it, so he just squeezed Dru’s hand tightly and nodded. ‘Yes Madam.’

For a moment he thought she was going to touch him, maybe even smile, but she only fastened her bonnet to her head with a precise turn of the ribbons and lowered the thick lace veil ‘Good boy. Is the cab here, minion?’

‘Yes Mistress.’

And then in a few flurrying seconds of activity she had crossed the stretch of sunlit pavement and hurried into the cab, and she was gone.

The three of them stood in the drawing-room and waited for one of the others to say something first. Then Will became embarrassed by the fact he was still holding Dru’s hand, and he shook her off with a jerk and walked away to the far side of the room.

Dru returned to her tarot pack at once. She still seemed extraordinarily calm, and Will was finding it very unsettling. He and Damon kept looking at her, as if confident that any moment she would break down. And that would almost be welcome, because then he would have to comfort her, send Damon to fetch her favourite doll, duck the flying ornaments – anything. Just so long as he could be doing something. As it was he had to stand growing ever more uncomfortable with his own feelings, whilst Drusilla couldn’t seem to care less.

Will cleared his throat. ‘Did you bolt the door, Damon?’

‘Yes.’

Of course he had, whatever Damon was he wasn’t a fool. Will tried to work out what else he needed to think of. He knew that before everyone went to bed Angelus usually went round and checked that all the doors and windows were barred and bolted, the curtains properly drawn. Or if he were away then Darla did, or Harold as Head Minion. Will took a step towards the door, and then wondered if he should leave Dru alone with Damon, and then he told himself not to be so silly, he would only be a minute. And at least checking the house would be something to do.

Damon walked straight past him and left the room. ‘I’ll just check everything else is locked up,’ he called over his shoulder, and Will tried not to feel annoyed. He could have called him back of course, and Damon would probably have come – for all that Angelus was missing, his authority still hung over the depleted household like a threatening storm, and that authority stated that respect be shown to his childer. But Will told himself it would be petty not to let Damon do the rounds, so he just shrugged and went and sat down.

He nibbled at his thumbnail, and then stopped himself because it looked like nervousness. He wanted to start a conversation with Dru, but didn’t, because he couldn’t think of anything to say that didn’t involve where Angelus was. The book he had tried to read yesterday was still lying on the side table, as it must have been since the previous night. He toyed with the cover. Last night, he thought, my biggest worry was when Angelus was going to come home. Now it might be a question of if he comes home, and I… He what? He wasn’t even sure if he felt anything. But he was convinced that whatever the emotion he was not feeling might be he didn’t like it.

He had to stop worrying and think properly. He couldn’t look for Angelus himself, but he could try to work out where he had gone. Angelus had left Will near the park, but he couldn’t have been intending to hunt there himself because he had sent Harold and Lusius to check it. And he couldn’t have been going far or he would have ordered Will to find him a cab before sending him away. So he must have been going somewhere nearby, on foot, only where? He wished he had realised all that earlier, it might have helped Darla, given her a head start on where to look for Angelus—

Damn!

He didn’t even know where Darla was looking. What if something now happened to her? What if Angelus came back and became worried about her in turn? He had been unbelievably stupid not to ask. And yet it was so automatic to all of them for him not to have done so. It was a fact of his life: fledglings didn’t question their elders’ actions. Fledglings obeyed orders and didn’t ask for explanations; fledglings were too young and stupid to ever be told what was going on; fledglings got ignored or shouted at, and then they were left behind holding their sister’s hand. He hurled the book across the room to crash against the far wall, and Dru looked around in surprise. He watched her guiltily: horribly aware that he could have just precipitated the mad fit that had been so miraculously absent until that moment.

She tilted her head and considered him. ‘Not yet, Spike. Soon now.’

‘Soon what?’ he asked carefully.

‘Soon.’ And she went back to her cards.

Will looked up and saw Damon leaning in the doorway, watching him from under heavy lidded, dark eyes. Will leapt to his feet, and then felt stupid for having done so. ‘Everything secure?’ he asked cheerfully, and, when Damon nodded, said, ‘Good man.’ Just like some bloody house prefect, he told himself with an internal sneer. Oh, wouldn’t Angelus be proud of him. ‘I’ll take first watch,’ he said decisively.

‘Suit yourself. I’m going to have another drink.’ Damon went over to the decanter and poured himself a generous measure of whiskey into one of the cut crystal glasses.

Will watched this and opened his mouth to say something, and then shut it again. Damon having a drink in the kitchen after Will had offered it to him was one thing; Damon helping himself to Angelus’s best whiskey in the family drawing-room was somehow rather different. And yet it seemed extraordinarily small-minded, not to say priggish, to object. Will himself stole Angelus’s drink, cigars, and anything else he could lay his hands on whenever he thought he could get away with it. The sensible thing would be simply to walk over and join Damon. Sit and talk and drink and smoke – until they were all too tired and drunk to care about where the other side of the room was, let alone Angelus.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels for a bit. ‘Dru, what was my card?’ he said at last.

‘The Devil,’ she answered flatly, without looking up.

‘Oh.’ He waited. Normally he liked this game. Dru would tell him his fortune in strange fanciful riddles, and then he would weave a story around it for her: full of boastful wishes about the great things he was going to do and the wonderful places he would take her to – one day. ‘What does it mean then, love?’ he said at last, when she still hadn’t said any more.

Dru set a triptych of cards at the top of the pattern she was creating and peered at them down the length of her nose. ‘Time for William the Bloody to live up to his name,’ she said, with the dark swirl in her voice that only came when she was seeing. She raised her fingers to her temples and rocked slightly. ‘A nice clean collar and tie for his best Eton-suit. And such pretty patterns on his palms.’ She stopped as abruptly as she had started and calmly returned to her cards.

Will looked down at his palms and flexed them; the thin crease lines showed shiny against his white skin. ‘Can you read palms too, Dru?’ he asked, puzzled. She didn’t answer.

There was a small noise from the other side of the room, and Will realised he had forgotten about Damon. The minion was sipping his drink and watching Dru. ‘Are her prognostications always that obscure?’ Damon asked.

Will shrugged, and eyed the drink again, still wondering if he ought to say something.

‘She must know more than she’s saying though. An Eton-suit – might that mean like a schoolboy, perhaps? Something you have to learn? And the patterns on your palms could be—’

‘What’s the odds? It doesn’t change anything.’

Damon ignored Will’s dismissive tone and walked over to Dru; he held out his palm. ‘Read mine.’

Dru glanced at it coldly and then away. ‘I do not wish to look at your grubby paw. Who are you?’

Will decided not to stifle his grin.

‘My name is Damon, and I have been living in the same household as you for the last six months,’ Damon snapped.

‘Oh, you must be a minion then. Why are you stealing my daddy’s whiskey?’

Damon considered his glass ‘Well, that is because he isn’t here to give his permission, you see. Do you know where he is, Mistress Drusilla? You should say, so we can send for him and tell him what I’ve done.’

Will narrowed his eyes. The idea was clever enough, but he bristled at the assumption that Dru could be fooled like a stupid child.

Dru was clearly having none of it either. ‘I shan’t talk to a rotten apple.’

‘Well nor should you kick one, or it might prove to be full of wasps,’ Damon said angrily.

Dru broke into a beam and clapped her hands. ‘Oh I like him, Will. He’s funny. Can we keep him after all?’

‘Er, yeh, we can keep him, Princess. So we shouldn’t tire him out. Wouldn’t you like to go to bed now?’

Will knew he was actually the one who wanted to go to sleep. He had been up since long before sunset the previous evening with scant sleep during the previous day one way or another; and it was really beginning to tell. But having said he would take the first watch he wasn’t going to appear to change his mind. He very much wanted the others to go though, so he could at least sit and think in peace.

‘Isn’t time for bed, silly. The tickler-broker boy will be here soon.’

‘What tickler-broker boy?’

The doorbell rang.

‘That one,’ Dru said.

Tickler-broker turned out to be Dru-ese for a telegram boy. He was standing on the step, whistling in the irritating manner of his kind and kicking at the boot-scraper to pass the time. With some care Will peered at him past the curtains of the front bow window. It was a cold, grey sort of day. A smartly dressed young couple rode past, heading for the park and their morning’s exercise. From the other direction came a small girl in a sailor suit, bowling a hoop. The coal merchant was just delivering to the house across the street, the whoosh of the coal rumbling down the chute into the cellar coming loud to Will’s ears. At least the youth was apparently alone and hence probably just an ordinary post-office employee, not some undercover Trojan horse for the ferals. This fact was a relief at any rate, although it did not solve the problem of what to do about him.

‘Right then,’ Will said firmly, hesitated, and then said it again. ‘Right then. Well, we’re not going to step outside and we’re not going to let him in, so I think we should answer it.’

‘You’re mad,’ Damon said immediately.

Will ignored him and went to the door. Since Dru hadn’t thrown a fit she presumably had nothing to say on the matter, but Damon followed him out to the hall.

‘Will, see sense, man. Angelus will murder you when he gets back if you disobey orders like this. The Mistress said we weren’t to answer the door.’

Will paused with his hand on the bolt, but didn’t turn round. ‘You can call me Spike or you can call me Master William, but don’t say Will, you’re not part of my family.’

‘Oh, stop being so petty and juvenile! You mustn’t open that door.’

‘I am juvenile,’ Will said, stooping to get the lower bolt, ‘I’ve only been dead three years.’ He straightened up and turned the key. ‘But one thing I do know is that a telegram means important, so that’s why I’m going to open this door.’

‘Wi— Spike!’

‘Blimey, mate, you took your time,’ the telegraph boy said.

‘Spring cleaning,’ Will said perfunctorily, ‘we’re all at sixes and sevens.’

‘Not what I’d call spring yet.’ The boy handed Will the telegram, examined his tip with a disgusted sneer, and departed.

Will studied the address. Damon was fuming. ‘I presume it’s not even addressed to you. It’s for the Master or Mistress, isn’t it? Don’t your exemplary “we’re the most important branch of the Aurelians” manners balk at prying into other people’s correspondence?’ Will ignored him. ‘And never mind only being dead for three years, I think you’ve forgotten you died altogether – when did vampires ever tip?’

‘Since they had the sense not to make every Tom, Dick and Harry notice that they are vampires,’ Will said calmly, re-bolting the door.

‘You sound just like your sire,’

‘Must run in the family.’

The telegram was addressed to D. Aurelius. Darla. Will ripped the pink envelope open.

D Aurelius
Place found as expected . Join
me five thirty exactly repeat five
thirty . Relying on you A

‘Oh sod,’ Will said.

‘Time for William the Bloody to live up to his name,’ Dru said dreamily from where she was standing watching them.

‘Why does she keep saying that? What does it mean?’ Damon said crossly. ‘Do you know, Spike?’ Will looked at his palms again and after a second he nodded miserably. Damon snatched the telegram from him and read it. ‘Oh… sod,’ he said slowly.

‘Is it a birthday card?’ Dru asked brightly.

‘Angelus must be planning an attack just before sundown,’ Damon pronounced. ‘He’ll want to catch these feral bastards while they’re still half asleep, and he needs the gang to join him. Your problem, Spike, is while Angelus may have told Darla where he was expecting to find it, you of course don’t know where the feral lair is.’

Will stuck his hand in his pocket. ‘Well we’ve got seven and a half hours to find out in. And…’ he smiled up at the gagged and chained figure that was watching him with wide white eyes, ‘we’ve got you to find out from.’

Will took the knife out of his pocket and looked at it. It was a folding blade with the handle six inches long, of deep blue enamel decorated with silver bands at each end; and on one side, set in mother-of-pearl, the monogram WA. He carefully unfolded the blade and tested its edge. ‘Damon, have you got a stone?’

Damon fished in his own pocket and produced a small piece of whetstone, which he passed to Will. He also brought out a knife, a plain one, slightly smaller than Will’s. Damon was looking up at the feral with a set, hard expression; and the feral’s own eyes widened, and he seemed to try to struggle away. But Will could smell something coming off Damon that could only be fear. He grinned at Damon reassuringly. ‘This is going to be fun – you’ll see.’

Will spat on the stone and very carefully began to sharpen his knife. Aware of the pairs of eyes that watched his every move. ‘This knife was a present from Angelus,’ he said slowly. ‘That is Angelus of Aurelius. The Scourge of Europe.’ He glanced up at the feral and winked. ‘My sire.’ He left it for a moment, lingering, then returned to his task. ‘Do you remember why he gave it to me, Damon?’

‘I do not.’ Damon sounded nervous but determined.

‘He gave it to me three months ago. Just after Christmas.’

‘I don’t— Oh, the boy in the woods. The first time you ever…’

Will nodded and returned to his task. ‘Of course I used a spike that time, but afterwards Angelus said that it was high time I had a decent knife. It was no use messing around with a spike now I had started to do things properly at last. So much more versatile, a sharp knife.’ He stopped and tested the blade again, shaving a few hairs off his arm, then frowned and returned to work over a section he wasn’t quite happy with. ‘He’s right, of course: there’s a very limited number of things you can do with a railway spike. And it’s an art form, so Angelus says, nine-tenths imagination and one-tenth force.’

‘With as much of the imagination coming from them as from you,’ Damon said, as if quoting a text, and Will shot him a grateful look.

‘So he assures me. And you know what they say about the higher arts – practice makes perfect. Fortunately, I’ve got all day to practice.’

Will reached up and removed the feral’s gag. ‘Now, you’ve got an exciting choice in front of you, mate: either you can tell us what we need to know, and I stake you quickly; or you can spend all day being brave whilst I torture you, and that way – you’ll still be alive when my sire comes home. He’ll not be in a very good mood of course, so it will be nice for him to have someone to relieve his feelings on. And, since by then the information you have won’t be any use, he’ll be able to cut your tongue out as well. He’ll enjoy that. In fact he’ll be quite pleased with me for giving him such a treat. And I do like to please my sire.’

‘Fuck you, you Aurelian bastards.’

Damon looked questioningly at Will.

‘Don’t worry, Damon: just follow my lead.’ Will grinned and showed the tips of his fangs. ‘Now I’m still only learning, so you’ll make allowances if this hurts more than I intended.’

The feral screamed.

Two hours later Will grabbed Damon’s arm and dragged him out of the scullery. ‘I know you’ve never been taught, but look: it’s not just about hurting him. Anyone can hurt him. Anyone could get him to talk for that matter, given enough time. What we’ve got to do is far harder – we’ve got to get him to tell the truth.’ He blinked and shook his head. ‘The truth.’

Damon stared at Will’s hands and Will followed his gaze; the knuckles were already bruised deep purple, almost as if he had dipped his hand in a bottle of ink. From somewhere Will’s mind inconsequentially produced the word heliotrope. I’m beginning to get light headed, he told himself.

He sagged and blinked violently again, bringing a hand up to his head. Then he sank down against the corridor wall, tilted his head back, and just let his eyes slide shut with exhaustion. ‘I don’t think I can do this.’

Damon sat down beside him. ‘Do you want me to try?’ he asked very cautiously.

Will shook his head, then looked at Damon hopefully. ‘Do you think you could?’

‘I could try.’

Will shook his head again. ‘It’s no good.’

Damon bristled. ‘I know my sire isn’t Angelus, but I am a bloody vampire, I think I have some idea.’

Will stared at him. ‘No,’ he said at last.

‘Well then can’t Mistress Drusilla do something?’

‘I don’t know. Yes, probably, but she won’t. She’s telling her cards again, she seems to think that will help more. She says I will do it better than she can. Probably it’s one of these bloody stupid little tests that she’s always setting me: “Find me a new doll, Will; I want to visit the Tower of London, Will; fetch me a piece of the moon, Will.” That or she’s sulking because I refused to put an Eton jacket on. And I can’t make her do anything if she doesn’t want to. Only Angelus can ever do that.’ He balled his hands against his forehead and tried to force himself to think by sheer dint of wanting to. ‘He knows he’s going to die. Why’s he so bloody stubborn? Why draw it out for himself like this?’

‘Perhaps he doesn’t believe you’ll really stop if he tells you,’ Damon said simply.

Will gazed blankly at the ceiling, then scrambled to his feet. ‘Go and bring me a couple of pints from the larder. And feed yourself while you’re in there, one thing we can do is ensure we keep our strength up.’ Damon looked about to argue. ‘I can’t do this alone: I need you to back me up, Damon. Just do what I ask, please.’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Teach him that I mean what I say.’

‘You can tell me your name. Come along, you must have a name. And there’s no harm in that, is there? Then you can have a drink, I promise.’

The feral watched the small beaker of blood in front of him, with haunted eyes. Mere inches from his face, the scent must be driving his near-drained body wild with craving. The fractured lips quivered and then a hairline crack appeared, and as if the dam had crumbled his mouth opened. ‘Frank.’

‘Good boy, Frank!’ And Will held the beaker so Frank could gulp down the tiny precious mouthful. ‘There you are you see, an Aurelian keeps his promises.’ He passed the beaker back to Damon. ‘Now Frank, I’m sure you would like some more, so let’s see how frank you can be…’

Drusilla was staring up at Frank, her mouth a perfect O of wonder. ‘You’ve made him look ever so pretty, Spike.’

Will lifted his head wearily. ‘Please, Princess. You are so good at these games.’

She had appeared all in a bustle a few minutes before, announcing, ‘The stars say I must watch.’ Now she cocked her head and considered Damon. ‘But then everybody will want a turn. Angelus is away so you’re the man of the house now, my William. Me and Mister Goody Two-shoes must only stand and stare.’ She nodded firmly and then added, illogically, ‘You’ve got blood on your sheepskin. Fetch me a chair.’ Damon pursed his lips, then after a slow study of the blood on his shirtsleeves, sighed, and went and brought in a chair from the kitchen for her. She seated herself with the grace of a lady at an opening night, and fanned herself with her tarot cards.

‘Please, Dru—’

‘You may continue.’ She waved Will to return to his work.

At midday Frank groaned the single word, ‘Limehouse,’ before slumping, seemingly unconscious, in his chains.

Will, who was strongly tempted to fall asleep beside him, staggered to the drawing-room and collapsed onto the sofa. Dru had stayed behind, happily watching Frank. Which was probably a relief for Damon: she seemed to have become fascinated by the minion, following his every move and bursting into a snap of laughter if he ever did anything that was even slightly foolish. ‘You do as my Master Spike tells you,’ she would say sternly. Damon was trying to ignore this critical audience, but his patience was clearly beginning to wear thin. And not that it was any wonder he was making blunders, Will thought: they must all be feeling the strain.

Damon passed Will another glass of blood and plumped down beside him. Between the three of them – well, four, if you counted what had been doled out to Frank – they had almost drained one of the girls.

‘Limehouse,’ Will said, ‘well that’s rubbish if I ever heard any.’

‘It could be true…’

‘Bollocks. God, I could rip his lungs out!’

‘Don’t do that – then he really won’t be able to talk.’

Will gave a bark of laughter. Then he tilted his head back onto the soft cushion of the sofa and tried to raise the effort to sip his blood. ‘How does Angelus manage to make this seem so enjoyable?’

‘Over a hundred years of practice, I suppose. Why don’t you take a rest? He’s unconscious and you’re worn out.’

‘No. Just give me a minute. He’s more desperate for the rest than I am, I can’t waste that.’

‘I wish you’d let me try.’

‘No.’

Damon glanced at the door. ‘Do you think Mistress Drusilla is all right? Perhaps I should go and check.’

‘You’re not having a go, Damon.’

Damon pursed his lips and looked away abruptly. ‘I’m only trying to help.’

Will relented. ‘Yeh, I know, mate, and you are; but it needs to be one person always asking the questions. It’s hard to explain: there’s sort of a bond forming. I can feel it, and if I let up we will lose it.’

‘Oh.’ Damon did not sound convinced. ‘Well at least stop and have a smoke. You haven’t had one all day, you must be gasping.’

‘Smoking dulls a vampire’s sense of smell,’ Will said flatly.

‘Sod your sense of smell! You don’t need your sense of smell at the moment. You need a break. Here—’ Damon reached over and dug in Will’s pockets until he found the cigarette case, then he took one out and jammed it between Will’s lips and struck a match. Will took in the first warming cloud of smoke and closed his eyes with relief.

‘Thanks, mate.’ After a bit he grinned.

‘What?’ Damon was lighting one for himself.

‘I’m not supposed to smoke in the drawing-room: Darla doesn’t like it.’

Damon snorted. ‘I think between us we’ve broken just about every rule there is today.’

‘I’ll take your flogging if you take mine.’

‘No thanks. With any luck Angelus will be so busy with you I’ll be left to Harold. He’s a limp-wristed idiot that man, you’ve only got to bat your eyelashes and flash your arse and he forgets what he was going to punish you for: “Oh sir, please don’t hurt me. I am ever so sorry, sir. I really shan’t do it again.” And he actually believes it!’

Will laughed. ‘Wish that worked on Angelus. Harold’s not so bad though: he may be almost as fussy as Angelus about keeping the place spotless, but he knows his business at least. We’ve had worse head minions.’

Damon didn’t answer.

‘Come on,’ Will stood up, ‘this, as my mother used to say, ain’t buttering no parsnips.’

‘Your mother used to say that?’

‘Well, not very often, admittedly. Let’s see if we can get something a bit more constructive than “Limehouse” out of Franky boy.’

At one o’clock Will finally accepted that Dru wasn’t going to join in and do the job for him. Drusilla – who would stop in the street if she saw a crushed beetle, in order to pull its legs off as it died – had decided to spend the day watching; there was nothing he could say that would change that. He looked at her, and thought wryly that he had obeyed Darla in one thing at least: they were all getting exactly the same amount of rest – precisely none at all.

By half past one he had discovered that when you had made a little progress you couldn’t relax and enjoy the luxury of a break, because that was when you had to keep going while the momentum was with you.

At two he realised that when you were getting nowhere wasn’t the time to stop either, since that was when it was easiest to despair and let the whole thing grind irretrievably to a halt. Frank and he stared at each other hollowly. He no longer wanted Dru to help; this was no business of hers any more. Damon too seemed an irrelevancy now, he fetched and carried and hit the dangling corpse from behind when asked to because Will was too busy round the front, but he was nothing to the other two any more. The world contained nothing but the two of them. Had never contained anything but the two of them. Frank and Will, Will and Frank. Closer than lovers their gazes locked, as if both aware of the enormity of the mountain they had to climb together.

At three he had to rush out and Damon held his head for him as he vomited time and time again on the shiny tiled floor. Then Damon wordlessly cleaned up the mess whilst Will stood over the deep porcelain sink and looked at the pattern the blood had made on his palms. What have I become, he wondered, that I can do such things? Is this the day when I finally become a proper vampire? The blood had dried into the seams of his skin in strange red-black rivulets, and it made his hands seem tired and work worn. The hands of an old man. He washed them with his eyes shut, and did quite a good job considering. Then he splashed water on his eyes and went back into the room.

By quarter to five Will knew that he was starting to panic. The urge to smash his fist into Frank’s face, until there was nothing but a bloody pulp that couldn’t answer his question, was becoming uncontrollable. He hated Frank, hated him as he had never hated anything. For making Will appear so helpless. For still keeping silent when all logic said he should have spoken. For just being there, when by doing any one of a hundred things slightly different he could have not been captured in the first place. For making Will feel as he did.

I’m a vampire, he told himself. This is what vampires do. I can do this. ‘I’m a vampire.’ Damon looked at him oddly, and he realised he must have said it out loud. ‘Bloody hell: that’s it. I’ve had enough.’ He threw his hands up in the air. ‘I’m tired and I’m bored. Just stake him, Damon, and let’s get away from here.’

‘No!’

The terror of the shriek made both Will and Damon pause, even after a day of terrible sounds. Will tilted his head to one side. Considering Frank, he realised that the feral vampire still wanted to live. Incredibly, improbably, that pain wracked body – back broken, permanently crippled as it was – still contained the spark of hope.

He brought his hand up to Frank’s face, and cupped it gently. ‘So why don’t you give me a reason not to, Frank? Give me somewhere to go and I’ll leave to find out if you’re telling me the truth. If you really tell me the truth there’s even a chance your mates will kill or capture me, then they can come and rescue you.’

Frank stared at him, yellow eyed, blood barely dripping since there was so little left in him to drip. He was probably too exhausted to even know what day it was any more, let alone work out the flaws behind an argument. He spat twice, great gobbets of froth from his mangled mouth. And then Frank told Will the location of the feral lair.

It was only after Will had cleaned the blood and ash off himself, and sternly informed his body that it was a vampire’s and really didn’t need any rest, that he realised getting the address had been the easy part.

He asked Damon to pick the lock on Angelus’s weapons’ cabinet, and went to find Dru – who had finally decided to abandon her vigil over Damon and had vanished the second Frank spoke. He found her in her room, at last, setting out her dolls in a rigid line, as if they were corpses after a battle. She squeaked, when he came in, and then jumped all over him like an over-excited puppy. ‘My brave, wonderful Sir William! Now you can march your toy army to Daddy’s rescue, and fly the big blue flag!’

‘Yeh, well we know where we’re supposed to be going now, so we’d best be off, Princess. Don’t want to be late.’

‘We must wait for the others,’ she said, twirling round and then plumping down on the chaise longue and patting the seat beside her. ‘You shall tell me a story until they come home.’

‘Dru, pet, they aren’t coming home – that’s the whole point. There’s no one else to do this. No one at all.’

Will considered that it was typical that now – just when time was of the essence – Dru chose to throw the fit that she could have indulged in all damn afternoon without causing much trouble. He watched her with a sinking heart, as she started to scream and stamp her foot. And tear at her hair, and hurl the cushions across the room, and then, when she had run out of cushions, the chaise longue itself. He wondered vaguely what would happen if he were to just give in to his feelings and shriek and hit out at everything in reach; and wouldn’t it really be rather nice to be the mad one for a change? Then he did what he always did, and caught her arms and smiled and soothed it all away. ‘They’ll be back later love. Let’s not stay home getting in a lather, eh? Other things to do, and all that.’

It seemed to take far, far longer than was usual, but at last she gave a final hiccup and was quiet. Drusilla, who as far as Will knew couldn’t actually tell the time, then took out his watch and tapped the dial. ‘Time to go now.’

‘That’s right, love.’

She suddenly hissed and Will swung round to see Damon standing in the doorway, holding a short sword. ‘Rotten apple,’ Dru spat.

‘Is she going to be a problem?’ Damon said, not looking at Drusilla.

‘No.’

He watched as Damon slowly nodded and held out the sword towards him, handle first. ‘Or there’s a couple of axes.’ He indicated the floor beside himself.

Dru wouldn’t use a weapon, but Will decided he wasn’t going to take any chances with her. It would be well on current Dru form to suddenly develop a passion for the nice shiny sword and hold them up even longer. He covered the distance to Damon quickly, blocking Dru’s sight of the pretty toys, and took the smaller of the two axes. ‘Keep whichever one you want and put the other back,’ he said softly. ‘Dru won’t want one, she probably doesn’t even know how to use one.’

‘Fair enough. Do you know how to use one?’

‘Yeh. Course.’ Will hoped it wasn’t too obvious that he was lying. Besides, he did have some notion, since it was the same one as Angelus occasionally let him practice with. And he had cleaned it enough times; did that count as familiarising yourself with a weapon? If the worst comes to the worst, he thought, I can always just throw it at the nearest feral and then use my fists. At least I know what I’m doing with those.

There was a knock at the back door.

After a few seconds Will unclenched his teeth and forced himself to relax his grip on the axe-haft.

‘This is becoming like a bad French farce,’ Damon commented. He was looking slightly embarrassed: probably about the fact that he had just started several inches into the air at the knock. They went together down to the door, and listened very carefully, ears pressed to the wood, since there was no window that would give them an angle to show who was outside. Will thought he could hear whispering.

‘…it is, I tell you.’

‘We are in for it; we’ve absolutely no chance.’

‘It will be all right if Lusius answers, but if it’s—’

‘It’s the others,’ Damon said loudly and he straightened up and shot the bolt back.

‘Er, hello, Damon.’ It was Ruben and Amelia, standing in the dank little area, looking embarrassed. They peered past Damon and saw Will, and went very quiet.

‘What happened?’ Will demanded, and it was only when he said it that the crack in his voice told him just how frustrated he really was. There was a harshness in his tone, a touch of a growl that almost sounded like…

‘Well, it’s a funny story, now you ask—’ Ruben started.

Will snarled, and that time there was no question but he sounded like Angelus.

‘We got caught by the sun,’ Amelia finished.

‘Did you. We’ve got to go, Angelus needs us.’ He could almost hear them draw breath to spill forth a tirade of queries, and he just didn’t have time for it! There was no time for anything. Angelus would simply give an order and expect them to obey without hesitation, and what’s more they would. Only Angelus wasn’t there. ‘Quiet! Don’t start asking a lot of damn fool questions, I’ll explain on the way. Damon, go and get them a weapon each.’

Dru came up beside him as Damon slipped away. She was carrying a small cardboard-box, tied up with string. ‘Come along boys and girls, time to go. I’ve made us all yummy sandwiches.’

‘Er, thanks, sweetheart.’ Will looked up at the sky, and saw it was overcast, thick yellowy-white clouds blocking out all trace of the sun.

‘Know what that means?’ Ruben said, following his gaze. ‘If I’m any judge then—’

‘It means we can go outside in it, and that’s all I care about.’

‘Where’s Murphy?’ Dru asked. ‘I don’t like him, Will.’

Will realised what had been trying to catch his attention all along. ‘Didn’t he join you, Ruben? Damon said he left just after you two did, he was going to catch you up.’

‘We never saw him all night.’

Will stared down, blankly.

‘Help me with my hat pins, Will.’ Dru burbled.

‘Amelia can help you, love.’

Amelia was edging towards the door. ‘Yeh, course, Spike, but just let me fetch my—’

‘No! Nobody is fetching anything, or waiting, or stopping and discussing the weather, or anything a-bloody-tall. We’re going!’

‘What about Damon?’

‘Damon, get a fucking move on!’

Damon appeared silently and handed the sword and a stake each to Ruben and Amelia.

Dru’s eyes gleamed. ‘Oh Will, I want—’

‘No! No, no, no. There isn’t bloody time! Now – does anyone have any money for the bus?’

Between the bottom of various pockets and another raid on Angelus’s study, Will raised the twopence each needed for their fares, with a spare half crown for emergencies. He thought there probably would be emergencies. Then since it was cloudy Will decided they might as well indulge themselves by sitting up top on the knife-board. It wasn’t as if they often got the chance to in daylight. Dru claimed the seat right up front, next to the driver, and from what Will could hear she was entertaining him with stories about various gruesome crimes that had occurred over the years at all the places they passed. He sat further towards the back, with the others, and quietly detailed to Ruben and Amelia what had happened.

‘You got him to talk, Spike?’ Amelia said, when Will was finished, and she looked at him with a new respect.

‘Yeh, he’d better have told the truth, an’ all, cos we can’t ask again.’ He looked at his watch. Assuming they weren’t held up any more then they would just make it on time.

Assuming they weren’t held up.

Will sat in silence and an increasing feeling of unease grew over him. Where was Murphy? Where were Harold and Lusius? Where, for that matter, was Darla?

He leant back against the sharply uncomfortable wooden bench while the bus swayed and jolted along, apparently seeking out every little inconsistency in the road, and they seemed to stop every few yards to pick up or let off passengers.

What if he couldn’t find Angelus after all? In the face of that idea he decided to concentrate on something else. But something about the telegram kept nagging at his mind, something more than the original interpretation he had made of that enigmatic message, and he started to wish he had brought it with him so he could read it over once more. Five thirty: he was certain of that though, and then all he could think about again was how critical it was that they be on time.

Marble Arch was jammed solid with traffic. On reflection, Will thought, as he gazed up at the smudgy sky, it was hardly to be expected that anything else should have happened. Can I please, just once, have a piece of good luck? He asked the unheeding gods.

‘Sod this. Let’s walk.’

He retrieved Dru from the driver. ‘She’s got a way with words, your sister,’ the man said as he gave her a hand. ‘Better than the Illustrated News.’

‘Er, yeh. She likes the police reports. Come on, Dru.’ He jumped down to the street and held his arms out for Dru, who launched herself after him with a happy smile. Then he allowed her to thank both of the horses personally, which made them skitter and roll their eyes back, before they worked their way round to the back and waited for the others to descend by the narrow curving steps.

‘Given up on us, have you?’ the conductor said cheerfully. ‘Can’t say as I blame you. Besides, it’s goin’ to snow soon. You’ll be much better off walking than on a nice bus.’ He winked.

Snow? Will stared up again at the soot-and-cream coloured sky. Was that what it meant?

With everyone gathered, he led them off, threading through the traffic at a loping run. As they jogged along Baker Street, Will was struck by the thought that it was almost over: in a few minutes he would either be on time or too late. But if they managed to pull it off then the youngest of Angelus’s childer and the most junior of his minions would have succeeded where everyone else had let him down. He streaked out through the traffic to cross Park Road, with a broad grin on his face. ‘Relying on you.’ It hadn’t been directed at him, but Will had decided to take it to heart. They had reached the drive called the Outer Circle, which ringed the inside edge of the park, and the going was faster with no traffic to impede their way. Not long now.

‘Oh, fuck.’

It took Will a while to realise it was Damon who had spoken. ‘Er… what?’ he said, with a sinking feeling of inevitability.

‘Look over there.’

Will almost laughed out loud. Late afternoon in Regent’s Park: lively with the respectable crowds of warmly clad strollers, the more sensible ones heading for shelter as they took account of the weather, children romping about carelessly; whilst through their midst ran two gangs of vicious killers, converging on the same spot.

No one slowed, but across on the inner path, parallel to the Outer Circle, Bernardo turned his head as he ran, and stared at Will. Will stared back.

It was the footbridge across the boating lake that finally forced them to accept each other’s presence. Both gangs put on a spurt as they neared it; as if whichever could get there first must inexorably claim the submission of the other. But in the event the way was secured by a Horatio of a nurse wheeling a perambulator, with a column of four small children marching with military precision two by two behind her, and the nursery-maid bringing up the rear. She frowned at the racing vampires and flourished her starched bosom with an expression that would have quelled armies, and which stated quite clearly that no riffraff should presume to set foot on the bridge until she and her little darlings had passed.

She advanced like a stately galleon, unstoppable but ever so slow, and the vampires tumbled about, almost pushed into her, and then realised that they were all mixed in together and the two gangs were either going to have to fight right in front of a human, or else wait. They shuffled backwards in an awkward mill, to hold fire at the end of the bridge until she was safely out of sight. By unspoken agreement they fell in on each side of the path: Angelus’s five on one side, the ten or so of Bernardo’s facing them across the way. As the first clotted flakes of snow began to fall from the overloaded sky, Will found himself standing opposite a master vampire.

‘You appear to be trespassing.’

Will’s immediate thought was: if I get this wrong Angelus will wallop me until Doomsday. For some reason the thought that he might be able to was rather comforting. ‘Er…’ He looked uncertainly around. ‘Am I? Surely not.’

There was a small sound from Damon, and out of the corner of his eye Will saw the minion shaking his head with a God-give-me-patience air.

‘Doesn’t the boundary run across the middle of the lake?’

‘No,’ Bernardo said, ‘it runs along that fence-line there, skirts that clump of rose-bushes, and then crosses at the edge of the bridge. As was agreed between Angelus and myself nine months ago.’

Will looked at the relevant landmarks. ‘Are you sure of that? I’m positive the line goes from the tearooms, down past the deck-chair place, and across the other bridge. Just beyond that duck.’

Bernardo looked exasperated and then a flicker of a frown crossed his face, quickly suppressed. ‘Who are you?’ he demanded.

Will stuck his thumbs in his pockets and stood up a little straighter. ‘We met last night.’

‘I am aware of that. I asked—’

‘Look, I’m in a hurry, mate. So why don’t you clear off back to your own ground, and we’ll both be on our merry way.’

Around him Will heard the collective sound of fourteen vampire jaws dropping. Bernardo, though, laughed. ‘You can only be one of Angelus’s childer. Nobody but a full-blood Aurelian would be that rude. So what are you doing out here, hunting two couple by yourself?’

‘Relays,’ Will snapped. And he abruptly stood up on his toes and peered into the distance, as if keeping an eye on some driven game a way off.

Bernardo’s eyes narrowed and he briefly swung round to follow Will’s gaze, then turned back. ‘Maybe. Or maybe you’re really out here on your own. What happens if I put a stake through your heart? Does Angelus jump out of the rhododendrons to avenge you, or do I just get a rather small pile of dust?’

‘Well, this gentleman might be a bit surprised,’ Will said, indicating a stout chap with Prussian whiskers who was just hurrying over the bridge from the other direction. But as he said it he realised that Whiskers was the last. The nursemaid was now out of sight, and the rest of the park seemed to have emptied like water from a sieve as the weather settled into proper snow. Whiskers gave them a curious look as he hurried past, and then he was gone, heading towards warmth and shelter. In the cold landscape the cold-blooded demons were the only ones that remained. Will brushed the thick flakes off his eye-lashes, since they wouldn’t melt for him, and looked at the range of his enemies.

‘Where’s Ralph?’ he asked suddenly.

The Bernardo gang gave a collective hiss. ‘Out of my way, boy,’ Bernardo himself snapped. ‘You have five minutes to be out of my sight back where you belong, or I will stake you.’ He started towards the bridge.

‘No – wait!’

Everyone looked at Will again.

‘I… er, well actually, the fact is, you see… we need your help. And,’ he cocked his head and considered the master vampire, ‘I rather fancy you need mine.’

Through the veil of snow came the long, umbrageous howl of a wolf. A sound that contained in its note all the wild longings of a creature caged for the amusement of man, that still yet in its dreams knew the feel of long grass under swift passing foot, and the riffle of the north wind through its fur. As the wolf lifted its head to repeat its melancholy threnody a beast far wilder than he slipped down the path beside Regent’s Park Zoo, and approached the ticket office.

Will couldn’t smell any demons, but then it was hardly surprising amidst the reek of lions, bears – elephants, for Christ’s sake. Satan himself, he thought, fresh from the sulphurous fires of hell and not yet found the time for his Saturday bath, could have been walking through the middle of the Zoo and no one would have noticed. That, presumably, was the point. It was clever, but they hadn’t allowed for one thing: what was sauce for the goose was just as much sauce for the gander – or, in this case, for a light-scented vampire fledgling of the line of Aurelius.

Will paid a shilling each for two tickets and offered his arm to Dru, whose eyes were as big as saucers. ‘Camel!’ she said, pointing with almost incoherent joy ahead of her. ‘I want to eat it!’

The ticket attendant gave her a startled look and Will treated him to his coldest ‘do you really want to say anything?’ expression. The man looked back and forth between them and then quickly ushered them in. ‘Gates shut in half an hour, sir,’ he stressed. Will turned away disdainfully, and they went through.

There was a scurf of snow on the ground by now, and Drusilla kicked at it as she walked, with playful little sweeps of her satin boots. Will watched her fondly and on one particularly high kick he caught her around the waist and spun her up in a fine circle that made her coat whirl out around her. ‘Shall we play a game, sweetheart?’

‘Oh yes! What shall we play?’

‘You remember when the pixies sing songs in your fingers? Shall we see if you can catch any today?’

She laughed and twirled her arms out. ‘Pretty green songs. Oh – the air is kissing me, Spike!’ She held her face up to the sky as the great cold flakes wafted against her marble skin and frosted her thick, dark hair.

He hugged her and let himself pretend that this was really only a game. ‘So we make our fingers like a butterfly net—’ He held his own arms out and cupped his palms slightly. The light snow feathered against him and he was surprised to discover it tickled. Dru nodded sagely and did the same. ‘—And then we see what we can catch.’ The gesture probably wasn’t necessary, but it always seemed to get Dru in the mood, and it wasn’t as if there was anyone around to see them: well, not counting two tapirs and a rather sullen looking ostrich. The last few visitors must have decided to concentrate on the delights of the Aquarium and Reptile House. Even the other animals seemed to have given up and retreated to the backs of their cages.

Will dropped his arms and followed behind her. They walked slowly now, Dru weaving her head from side to side, making a little humming noise, and then just beside the bird-cages she stopped and tilted her head. Will kept silent and watched her. ‘Can you feel it, Will?’ she asked quietly.

He shut his eyes and tried to centre his senses as she had begun to teach him, and for just a second he thought he could feel something, like a flickering on the very edge of his vision, but then it was gone. ‘Is there something there, love?’

She nodded. ‘A green pixy song.’ She kicked her feet again and a sweep of white sprayed out behind her like a train, with little pearls of what looked like bird-seed mixed amongst it. ‘Brr, I’m cold, Will. Shall we go inside where it’s warm?’

‘All right, darling. Just wait a moment though.’

It didn’t take him long to slip across to the boundary fence and for the first time in his life he gave the soft whistle that was the hunting call to rally. Then he and Dru waited in the lee of a building that apparently contained giraffe, while vampire after vampire climbed the fence and slunk to their side. ‘We’ve found it,’ Will said quietly. ‘Everyone know what to do?’ There was a series of nods.

Bernardo was glaring at him. ‘If this is some trick, boy—’

‘Well it’s not.’

‘And I have very little choice: you’re telling me. Hmm. Five thirty, you say?’

‘If you please, sir.’

‘And now he remembers his manners! Go then.’

Will caught the eye of the three Aurelian minions, grabbed Dru by the hand, and ran back the way he had come.

Back by the bird-cages again, he relocated the site of the tingly sensation and opened the cardboard box Dru had brought with her. ‘You’d better have remembered this right,’ he muttered to himself as he threw the grain in the air and said clearly ‘Retage sesamum.’

Snow continued to waft around them, building up in little drifts against their feet as they stood shivering. A curious eagle owl shifted on its perch and peered at them down its beak, with a disapproving air.

‘Retage sesamum,’ Will said again hopefully. ‘Oh for Christ’s sake – will you bloody retage sesamum!’ there was a faint pop and a black doorway appeared in front of them, with steps descending into darkness.

‘There you are, you see,’ Will said; ‘I knew it would work. Come on.’

One by one they ducked inside, only as Damon crossed the threshold – the last of their group – there was another pop, and the doorway vanished to be replaced by a slab of solid rock. Will realised he hadn’t brought any spare seeds, and that actually had no idea how to open the door again. He decided not to mention this to the others.

The air was cool and dry, but here, magically shielded from the animals, the stench of ferals was overpowering. And in the distance was the chatter of many, many voices.

Will looked at Dru and saw she was wide eyed and quivering. He took her hand reassuringly. ‘I’ll look after you, love.’

‘Daddy—’

‘We’ll find him—’

‘—looks after me.’

He dropped his eyes. ‘Angelus isn’t here, Dru, but I am,’ he said very quietly. ‘And when Angelus can’t be here, then I look after you, don’t I, love. You know that. It’s why I was made. He tells me off if I don’t – you remember.’ He smiled hopefully at her. And she nodded and squeezed his hand back.

‘My brave little Will.’

‘Yeh. Stay quiet and close, Dru, eh?’

She nodded obediently and the five of them slunk forward.

For some time there was no sound but the chattering in the distance like the rustling of some distant wood on a windy day, and the soft pad of their feet. Will was trying to come up with a plan.

Everyone froze at the sound of approaching footsteps: not soft and cautious, like their own, but the hard tramp of two people with every right to be there. Will quickly gestured for the others to get out of the main passageway, and they crowded in behind him into a side passage. The footsteps came closer and a voice spoke, sounding agitated. ‘There aren’t enough weapons.’

‘There aren’t enough people! This is a big undertaking tonight – the Scourge of Europe is not to be dealt with lightly, and we have lost several of our best men over the last few days.’

‘But we have the captives. And with these Tethroc on our side…’

‘Ugh, don’t remind me. Nasty creatures. We’d be much better off without them. And without all this elaborate trickery – it is overcomplicated. The risk of something going astray is too great. Do you realise the spy has not yet returned from Angelus’s household? It is a disaster!’

‘Er, yeh, whatever you say. The spy—’

Damon suddenly yelled ‘Come on!’ and leapt out; Will, Amelia, and Ruben exchanged a horrified glance and ran out after him. Will had time to see a short, bespectacled vampire in a smoking jacket, looking shocked, with a hulking brute not unlike Frank beside him, before Damon seized the large one and got him in a neck hold. Will barrelled in against the feral’s torso and sent them both flying, and Damon grunted as he was squashed against the far wall. Will remembered his axe and brought it up to try and swing, but the feral batted it aside and it twisted uselessly down the vampire’s arm. He swore and dropped it and brought up a fist. The feral blocked that too, but Will got in a quick return jab to his opponent’s chin. There was a shower of dust.

‘What the—!’

Something jumped on him from behind and he swung round, flailing. It must be the small one, who he’d forgotten about, and he tried to kick back and throw him over his shoulder. More bodies flung themselves into the melee and knocked the feral off him, he twisted, caught his balance, and with a yell of ‘mine’ somehow Will found himself with the small feral in a neck hold of his own. But the other vampire writhed like an eel, and though Will held on he couldn’t break his neck. They swung round together and suddenly Damon was in front of them. The scholarly vampire seemed horrified. ‘You—’ Damon plunged a stake in his heart.

Will stood panting. ‘What happened?’

Damon was grinning broadly. ‘Eh?’

‘The big one – what happened?’

‘I staked him from behind while you were punching him. Wasn’t that the idea?’

‘Oh. Yeh. Good.’ He drew a hand across his face and pulled himself together. ‘Did they say something about captives?’

‘Yeh. And a spy,’ Amelia said.

They all looked blankly towards the sound of the feral horde. ‘What are we going to do, Spike?’

‘Will, I want to see Daddy now, please,’ Dru said.

‘It doesn’t make any difference,’ Will said at last. ‘We carry on as before, we’ve just got to go very carefully.’

‘But where is Daddy, Will?’

It didn’t make any difference. Well it couldn’t really: he still didn’t have the faintest idea what he was going to do.

I’m not panicking, he told himself. I will find the source of that noise and assess the situation from there. That is the sensible thing to do. I am not panicking. I am in charge here. And I’m a vampire and I have been perfectly well taught how to fight so there is no earthly reason I can’t do this. I don’t know where Angelus is. I am not panicking. They said they had captives and I don’t know where Angelus is. Damon managed to kill two vampires when I couldn’t even break the neck of one when I had it in a hold. I am young and stupid, and I shouldn’t be here. And Angelus is going to be furious if he isn’t dead. And I am not panicking.

As they sneaked along in single file, Will suddenly felt something land heavily on his neck. ‘None of you make a sound,’ a cold voice said.

Will turned his head slightly. ‘Er… Hello, Sire.’

Angelus’s grip tightened and he yanked Will into the small side cavern he was lurking in. ‘How does that qualify as not a sound, boy? And… what the devil are you doing here?’ he demanded in a furious whisper.

‘Bloody hell, Angelus! I thought—’ Angelus shook him once and he shut up.

‘I just heard fighting; are you being chased?’

‘No Sire. We killed them.’

Angelus released his hold slightly and studied each of them in turn, assessing what he had before him. ‘You have been lucky not to be discovered. Fortunately there are no guards anywhere: they put all their trust in their magic portal. Ill disciplined idiots.’ Angelus did not make it clear if it was them or the ferals who deserved the epithet. ‘You killed how many?’

‘Two, Master,’ Damon answered before Will could.

‘Well done, Damon,’ Angelus said, and Will felt a burst of envy.

‘I held them for him!’ he protested.

‘What are you even doing here, boy?’

Will sulked. ‘Darla went out and left us, but when we found out what was happening we came by ourselves. I would have thought you’d appreciate our help! We overheard them say there’s a spy in your household; and they’ve got captives; and there’s something big on tonight – and they plan to attack us. But don’t worry, I’ve sorted it all out. I couldn’t get all our lot together, so I organised an alliance. The portal will open at five thirty, only when they try to leave Bernardo’s gang will be waiting for them; and we’re goin’ to circle behind so they can’t escape back down the tunnel.’

Angelus blinked.

‘Sire,’ Will added, as an afterthought.

‘How did you know how to get inside?’

‘Well you’ve been making me study the Tethroc all ruddy week, haven’t you. What else would vamps be employing them for? Obviously they’ve been setting up one of their famous portals. You know: the one that needs the powdered bones of a week old human corpse to sustain it. That was why they were digging one up the other night. So I just performed the standard opening spell – I do know this stuff, Angelus; I’m not a bloody idiot.’

Angelus blinked again. ‘You hide it well at times, Will. So where is Darla?’

‘Dunno. I was hoping she was with you by now. Didn’t you tell her you were expecting the lair to be here?’

‘No. I saw a pack of them last night and tracked them.’

‘Oh. Much the same as Bernardo then, except he only just got here. But hang on—’

Angelus held up a hand for silence as he cast an uneasy glance at the roof above him. ‘Bernardo is really up there? Why is he helping?’

‘Ah, well that’s because—’ There was a loud scream, echoing down the caverns; Will looked at Angelus in shock.

‘That, unfortunately, is Harold, or possibly Lusius, The ferals had just captured our boys when I saw them last night,’ Angelus said. He took out his watch. ‘And Bernardo expects them to emerge at five thirty?’

‘Yeh.’

‘Then it is high time we got into position,’ Angelus said decisively. ‘This way.’

As Angelus led them surely through the maze of tunnels that he had had all day to explore, Will felt as if a great load had lifted from his shoulders. He could feel the hum of excitement through his body at the thought of the upcoming fight, but the strain of having to be in charge no longer weighed him down. He had found Angelus, and everything was going to be all right. He looked across at Dru and smiled at her, and she smiled back. ‘My wicked Sir William,’ she said, and he felt a thrill of pride.

The murmuring of voices was getting louder as they approached its source, and at last Angelus began to set his minions, spacing them in carefully chosen positions hidden along the tunnels. He muttered a few words of command to each, and in each case received a brief bow of acknowledgement. Even Dru seemed totally caught up in the master vampire’s calm competence; she listened attentively and then waited in silence at her allotted stand, eyes bright with anticipation.

Finally Angelus stopped again and beckoned Will to him. Together they crept to a doorway and peered through, cautiously.

Will saw a largish space where a score or more of vampires and several Tethroc were all gathered, all chatting away while weapons were handed out and someone in the middle seemed to be trying to give orders, but nobody was listening. Others ran in and out, waving their arms about and looking self-important; no one came near their hiding place. Nothing else happened for some time. Finally, as they watched there was a bustle around a different door and two more vampires came in. One was holding a chain and attached at the other end limped three blood spattered and cast down captives: Harold, Lusius, and, on the end, Ralph.

‘Silence!’ the first of the newcomers bellowed. ‘Silence. Will you shut up!’ Quiet of a sort fell at last. ‘Fellow outcasts of the vampire world, tonight will see our triumph!’ There were rousing cheers. ‘Has the one sent to spy on Angelus returned yet?’ Angelus and Will exchanged a glance.

‘No,’ someone shouted from the back.

‘Are you sure? Is anyone here the spy?’

Angry conversation broke out again, but no one claimed to be.

‘The treacherous cur! He shall pay for this. But no matter: these prisoners have told us where the foul Scourge currently wallows like a fat spider, denying us all our birthright. And tonight, we seize back our share of London from him!’

‘Albert!’ the mob cheered. ‘Albert the Free – new Lord High Master of London! Let the down-trodden rise!’

‘It is time. On to the lair of the Aurelians – on to Bayswater.’ There was a snarl of outrage from Angelus, but the sound was lost in the cheering as the mob headed for the exit, leaving the captives forgotten.

‘At least Harold and Lusius managed to lie,’ Will said softly.

‘I would never live in Bayswater!’

The ferals never noticed Angelus and Will move behind them to free the prisoners, nor the silent obedience with which Angelus’s gang turned to follow in the shadows. Through their caverns the mob marched, heedless of the dark hunters who stalked at their heels and from time to time, working with perfect co-ordination, pulled the hindmost from their ranks and dispatched them so swiftly that the victims had no time even to scream.

There were still too many for comfort by the time they arrived at the staircase, though. Will clenched his fists – Angelus had taken the axe straight off him and given it to Harold – wished he had practised as much as he was supposed to, and watched his sire.

The Tethroc stepped forward and muttered their spells, and Will could just catch a glimpse of sky, and knew the portal must be open. Finally the Tethroc stood back and the feral vampires swarmed for the steps. When about half of them were outside, Will heard the roar as above them Bernardo’s people charged. Then Angelus opened his throat with the bull-bellow of a master vampire enraged, and the house of Aurelius fell upon its enemy.

The dust settled. A great deal of dust, with a powdering of snow drifting down from above to settle on top of it. Albert the Free was caught by a little tornado of wind and circled like the rubbish in the street had – then was scattered for ever.

Will stared at the dust, as he tried to come to terms with the biggest fight he had ever been in. He had killed his second Tethroc; been pulled out of the path of a descending stake by Angelus, twice; and nearly killed a vampire for himself, only Ruben had got there first. He honestly wasn’t sure if he had done badly or well. He looked up at Angelus, searching his face for some clue, but Angelus was talking quietly to Harold, giving orders and arranging details.

Lusius limped past, with four or five feral captives and a fierce smile of revenge on his face. Amelia came after him, nursing a broken arm but still soldiering on. Only one minion wasn’t helping – Ruben’s dust was mingled with the rest that coated the floor.

Damon came up beside Will. ‘Enjoy yourself?’

‘Yeh. I suppose so. I seemed to spend most of my time being shoved safely into corners by Angelus.’

‘I think—’

‘Damon! Are you suffering from some horrible painful wound, boy?’ Harold demanded.

‘No, sir.’

‘Then I suggest, young man, that you start that lazy carcass of yours working, before I give you one.’

Damon rolled his eyes at Will and followed Harold out.

Bernardo came down the stairs looking as if he was an old, white-haired man, but it was only snow. ‘Angelus,’ he said quietly, ‘have you seen my boy?’

‘He is safe. He will be here in a minute.’

Bernardo nodded and held out his hand. ‘It was a good fight. The house of Loratio owes a debt to the house of Angelus of Aurelius.’

Angelus nodded in turn and accepted the hand. ‘Likewise.’

Bernardo sniffed and looked a little embarrassed; he pulled away quickly and stuck his hands in his pockets. ‘That boy of yours is a rude brat, Angelus, but he seems to know his business. You’d better introduce him to me: I expect we’ll be hearing a lot of him.’

Angelus snapped his fingers without looking round, and Will went at once to his side. ‘This is William the Bloody, my youngest childe,’ Angelus said calmly.

Bernardo looked at him and Will waited.

‘You said five thirty, William the Bloody. It was closer to six by the time they appeared.’

‘Perhaps ferals don’t have very good watches, sir,’ Will said.

Bernardo regarded him again. ‘Yes, possibly. Just as fledglings of Aurelius do not always know where a territory boundary lies. I have lost two good minions tonight, and it will not be possible to hunt this part of London for a very long time, but—’ He looked past Will to where Ralph had just appeared, and stared for a while, as if reassuring himself that his boy was relatively unharmed. ‘—my childe is safe. And it is possible that I would not have found the entrance without your help, so if you or your sister ever wish to cross the boating lake by the west bridge, then I shall not object.’ And with that he walked past Will and went up to his own childe.

Angelus set his hand on Will’s shoulder and revolved him round to face him. ‘Are you hurt?’

‘No Sire.’ Will looked down, embarrassed. ‘I’m glad I found you before we had to attack, Sire. I don’t think I could have done that part on my own.’

‘Yes boy, I am rather glad of that as well. Now, there is a great deal to do. The ferals have human captives, which I wish to take charge of before Bernardo’s curs find them. We had also better find some way to make sure there is not a magic portal in the middle of the Zoo, come morning. Then I have a great deal to say to these surviving ferals, and they have a lot they will say to me. For example, there is that matter of a spy sent to my household. By the way, where is Murphy, Will?’

‘He never came home last night. Oh! Do you think he…?’

‘Possibly. However, before we deal with all that, you, William, are going to tell me, in exhaustive detail, exactly how you came to be here.’ Angelus folded his arms and waited.

Once again Will found himself returning home in the long shadows of morning. But this time the snow was thick and crisp on the streets, making even London seem clean and quiet and beautiful. And he had Dru on his arm, and Damon strolling beside him, making conversation in a friendly fashion. Angelus and the others had gone on ahead with no less than five humans, which should keep them all fed to their hearts’ content for days. And altogether the world seemed a very pleasant place indeed.

‘Do you know what day it is today?’ Will asked Damon, as they walked.

‘I have no idea… you irritating three-year-old.’

Will met his eye and they grinned at each other.

‘You have been reminding everyone at every possible opportunity for the last few hundred weeks, Damon said, ‘so it is hardly surprising I know. Happy Birthday, Master William.’

‘Well it’s not officially until tonight of course, only everyone forgot last year, so I wanted to be sure.’

Dru snuggled against his arm. ‘You’re all big and grown up, my William.’

‘Yeh, a big bad three. And since I had to spend most of the anniversary of my actual death freezing on a roof while you were off somewhere enjoying yourself, you had better have got me a good birthday present to make up, Dru.’

‘Hush, naughty William, mustn’t tell secrets.’

His eyes widened. ‘Is that what you—’

‘Hush!’

He grinned and hugged her. ‘Well whatever happens I intend to celebrate my birthday better than any three-year-old ever has. And since we’ve got enough food to last for weeks Angelus had bloody well better give me the night off for once.’

Damon stopped and glanced up the street to their house, fumbling in his pocket. ‘Yesterday was… special.’

‘Yeh. No masters, no minions, hardly even any bloody territory rules to worry about. It was fun. Only when we’re back inside, then…’

Damon took out his knife. ‘I think I’d better give you this now, all things considered. It’s not much but it’s all I’ve got on me.’ He held it out. ‘Happy Birthday, Will.’

Will took it. ‘Won’t you need it?’

‘I’ll manage.’

Will stared at him. ‘Dru, love, why don’t you go on in.’

‘All right, Spike.’ She kissed him and left. ‘Don’t be long,’ she called back over her shoulder.

‘I’ll be there in a minute.’ He waited a few seconds until she was gone. ‘Do you think he’ll take you back?’ he asked Damon quietly.

Damon shrugged. ‘I’ll manage,’ he said again.

Will looked up at the sky. ‘I always thought that around sunrise would be the best time to go, if one wanted to run away. Much harder to be followed.’

‘You’ve thought about it, then?’

‘Well, I’d be mad not to have, sometimes. But it’s as you say: there are advantages to being childe to the Scourge of Europe.’

‘He’s not really your sire, you do know that, don’t you.’

‘You do talk bollocks sometimes, Damon. Of course he’s my sire.’

Damon shrugged again. ‘I’d better be going.’

‘Yeh.’ Will stared down at the knife Damon had given him. Carved neatly on the handle were the letters DA. ‘Are you sure you don’t want this back?’

‘Yes. If I go home, maybe he’ll give me another one, and if not – well, wherever I go I doubt I’ll be using the name of Aurelius. We may only be a minor branch of the bloodline, but it will still attract attention.’

‘Yeh, you’re probably right,’ Will said thoughtfully. He dug in his own pocket. ‘Here – go on, take it: you will need a knife. I’ll tell Angelus I lost it. I can’t let you go without one; when you think about it we must be cousins or something.’

‘More the “something”, I think.’

‘Yeh. To be honest I had forgotten you were another Aurelian. It’s all the same blood though, isn’t it.’

Damon smiled thinly, and turned on his heel to slip off into the shadows. Will watched until he was out of sight, then ran home.

Darla was in the drawing-room, engaged in a furious conversation with Angelus, which they stopped when Will came in.

‘Here you are, you see,’ Angelus said, indicating her to Will. ‘Safe and sound. And far too wise to have wasted time worrying about the rest of us – aren’t you, darling. And Darla even managed to find Murphy, Will, he spent the past twenty-four hours in a drunken stupor under a table at the Black Dog, apparently.’

Will regarded Darla, who was looking at him with a less than pleased expression. Dru was curled up in the corner of the sofa – yawning, but she gave Will a little wave. ‘Do you believe Murphy?’ he asked Angelus.

‘Well I shall have something to say to him about it, but on the whole: yes. I know what Murphy is capable of and his plotting with some mad feral is not very likely. Now if Albert the Free had been a Newmarket stable owner I might have been more suspicious.’

‘Oh.’

Will went and collapsed next to Dru, who took his hand, but he was too tired for anything else and clearly she was as well: so for a while he was able to relax in the silence. Then he became aware of how loudly the clock was ticking, and at last opened his eyes. Angelus was looking at him.

‘What?’

‘One of the chief advantages of being a master vampire is having energetic young fledglings to provide the little comforts of life,’ Angelus drawled.

Will scowled, but forced himself up, dragging his feet with theatrical weariness over to the decanter.

‘If you have the energy to clown you have the energy to find my slippers as well.’

Will served Angelus and Darla, dug Angelus’s slippers out from under a chair, and knelt to unlace his sire’s boots.

‘Ah, the vigour of youth,’ Angelus remarked as the first boot was yanked off.

‘Other one,’ Will said sharply, slapping at Angelus’s calf like a farrier. With both boots removed he jammed the slippers on Angelus’s feet and stomped back to his place to collapse again. Angelus allowed him perhaps thirty seconds of peace.

‘You forgot to hand me my cigar— I saw that look.’

Will scowled even deeper but went and caught the cigar box up with a snatch from where it lay on a small table – barely two foot from Angelus’s elbow – and held it under Angelus’s nose.

‘Hmm, this seems to have fewer left in it than I remember.’

‘Are you having one or not?’

Angelus carefully selected one. ‘Are you for some reason assuming that I am too tired to thrash you, Will?’ he asked with interest.

‘Perhaps I’m too bloody tired to care.’

Angelus grinned and passed his selection back up to Will, then as Will returned the box to its place Angelus stuck a lazy arm out and yanked Will up against his side, one hand around his waist. Will pretended to ignore him, clipping the cigar, but he lolled back slightly, into the crook of Angelus’s arm.

‘I can remember when I had a sweet little fledgling whose greatest pleasure was to run errands for me,’ Angelus said.

‘Yeh? Died of exhaustion did he?’

Angelus chuckled and patted Will indulgently. ‘One last errand for you, Will: fetch the switch down.’

‘Oh bloody hell, Sire, you don’t mean that, do you?’

Angelus took the prepared cigar back from him. ‘I can’t imagine why you would think any order of mine was merely a joke, boy. You can bring me a light while you are over there.’

Will hesitated a second longer. But Angelus just released his hold and prodded him in the direction of the mantle-piece, so he sighed and did as he was bid: taking a light from one of the gas jets and then plucking the switch out from its resting place behind the clock. Angelus accepted the light but then, to Will’s surprise, waved him away, leaving Will still awkwardly holding the hated switch.

‘Now, my boy, you have some explaining to do: Darla informs me that she told you not to leave the house.’

‘But if we hadn’t—’

‘Never mind what happened because you did. I am more concerned with the fact that you were very clearly told not to.’

Will considered the pattern of the carpet. ‘She only said not to set foot out of the front door, Sire, and we didn’t: we went out the back way.’

There was a loud snort from Darla, but when Will risked a glance up he saw a raised eyebrow was the only response from Angelus.

‘It’s ever so true, Angelus,’ Dru chimed in helpfully.

‘Hmm. You were also told not to let anyone in.’

‘Didn’t let anyone in, Sire: Amelia and Ruben waited outside until we left.’

‘What a perfect example of obedience you are, Will,’ Darla said.

‘Indeed, darling, aren’t we fortunate,’ Angelus said dryly.

Will set his jaw, stuck his thumbs in his pockets, and stared back at Angelus boldly. Dru gave a little giggle, and then, when Darla turned to her with narrowed eyes, bit her lip and gazed up at the ceiling innocently. ‘What are you sitting on, Drusilla?’ Darla suddenly demanded, and snatched at a piece of paper half under Dru’s skirt. It was the telegram, and Darla smoothed it out and studied it with a darkening expression. ‘This is addressed to me. Perhaps you would like to explain, William, why it has been opened?’

Will thought fast. ‘Well, actually it’s addressed to D. Aurelius, Madam, so we thought it must be for Dru.’ And, as he said it, the truth hit him.

‘Is there anything you don’t have a smart answer for?’ Darla asked.

‘Try him on this, Darla: How exactly did you get hold of that telegraph, which you thought was for Dru, given that you weren’t supposed to answer the door?’ Angelus looked at Will with an expression of polite enquiry.

Will shook himself out of his reverie and tried to think of a sensible answer. ‘Er… We spoke through the letter-box?’

‘That would still count as answering the door. Try again.’

‘Oh… Ah! I headed the telegram boy off and called him to the window before he ever reached the door,’ Will said triumphantly, hoping that Dru would keep her mouth shut for once.

‘Hmm, not bad. Only, what time was it delivered – surely the sun would have been shining directly onto that window?’

‘Oh.’ He fidgeted with the switch in his hands.

‘Come along, Will, a talent for deceit is an important skill for a vampire.’

‘We-ell… What really happened was… when the bell rang we ignored it for quite some time, and then I just yanked the door open and glared at him, and… And that stupid etiquette book you and Harold insist everyone follows says that when answering the door you should be prompt, neat, and be wearing gloves – and I wasn’t, so it doesn’t count as proper answering.’ He looked at Angelus hopefully.

Angelus considered all this for a while and then nodded quietly, set his cigar carefully on a silver ash-pan, and stood up. ‘Very well. Pass me the switch.’ Will grimaced and handed it over. ‘I insist you all follow the etiquette because to the outside world we need to appear as like to a human household as possible. A fact that you should very well know.’ Angelus looked at the switch and gave a couple of test cuts through the air. ‘By the way, darling, what was your telegraph?’ he remarked casually.

Will, who was trying not to watch the switch, studied Darla, and for a few blissful seconds he saw her undergo what the cartoon sketches always described as a sensation.

‘Angelus, are you saying that this telegram was not sent by you?’

Angelus took it from her and glanced over it with a frown. ‘ “Place found as expected. Join me five thirty exactly, repeat five thirty. Relying on you.” Hmm. Well the signature A could hardly be said to constitute proof of authorship.’ He smiled. ‘A snake in the grass, darling – it is a good thing Will had the sense to realise.’ Angelus turned a cold eye on Will. ‘You did know it wasn’t from me, didn’t you, boy?’ Will nodded slowly. ‘I would hate to think you came blundering into a feral lair with no good idea of what you were doing there.’

Will swallowed. ‘I think… I think the telegram was to try and lure the gang into a trap. Only I foiled them by arriving ahead of time.’

‘Perhaps. Oddly enough, Will, I recall you being slightly late.’ Angelus returned the telegram to Darla, and she re-read it with a frown.

‘It strikes me, Angelus, that this was more likely intended for this spy you mentioned.’

‘Indeed.’

‘The spy who was not Murphy.’

‘Indeed.’

‘Well?’

Angelus picked his cigar up from the ash-pan and took a deep puff, before setting it back down and returning his gaze to Will. ‘You have had more time than the rest of us to think this out, boy. Which of the minions do you think we should drag in here and press for a confession?’ He began to tap the switch lightly against his leg.

Will stared at it. ‘I’ve never really trusted Ruben, Sire,’ he said at last.

‘Ah… Ruben. That would be… a possibility.’

‘Why would a telegram for Ruben be addressed to D. Aurelius?’ Darla snapped.

Dru suddenly sat up straight. But she kept her peace.

‘Something of a mystery, Darla.’ Angelus said calmly. ‘But then it can hardly be one of the others: no spy would be stupid enough to quietly come back here to us. Although given that Ruben is dead, and the way those wretched things are written, we will probably never be sure just who or what it was meant for.’

Dru made a small sound and everyone looked at her. Again she seemed about to speak, but then she caught Angelus’s eye and whatever she saw there seemed to make her fold up on herself, and she settled back onto the sofa with a frown. Angelus nodded quietly.

‘William, you never said how you knew the telegram wasn’t from Angelus,’ Darla said eventually.

‘Er… Well, isn’t it obvious, Madam?’

‘Yes, boy, but I want to hear you say it,’ Angelus said, while Darla eyed Will frostily.

Will watched Angelus, who was still tapping the switch.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

In time with the ticking of the clock.

At last he tore his eyes away from it and cocked his chin. ‘Much as I admire you, Sire, I would never believe you’d sent a telegram. An’ if you did manage to do something so up-to-date it would run to ten pages, explaining every last detail in perfect grammatical English. Now if they’d used a carrier pigeon I might’ve been fooled.’

Angelus pointed the switch at him. ‘You cheeky little brute. Come here.’ Will edged closer. Angelus looked down at the switch, then abruptly reversed it and held it out, handle first, to Will. ‘That needs re-waxing, and the edge of the handle binding is coming loose. See to it, will you; and then you’d better get to bed – you’ve had a hard couple of days. Well take it then, you daft boy: you don’t think I’m going to do it myself, do you?’

Will allowed his shoulders to relax at last, and he smiled and took the switch. ‘Sleep well, Sire.’

Angelus reached up with a curious expression on his face, and ran a gentle finger down Will’s cheekbone. ‘Sleep well, little one.’ And he leant in and gave Will a slow and very tender kiss. When he pulled away, Will looked up at him yearningly, on edge again, straining for some gesture from Angelus, some definite word of approval. But Angelus only took a step back. Will waited a second longer, then he squared his shoulders and went across to Dru, carelessly twirling the switch around his fingers like a baton. He pulled her up into his arms and into a leisurely kiss of his own, one which he made a point of carrying on for longer than Angelus’s had.

Darla was speaking. ‘So, Angelus, what would you have done if this boy had been obedient for once and never read the telegram?’

‘Why, just waited until the ferals left, then freed Harold and the others and come quietly home.’

‘But what would you have done about the ferals? Let me remind you that according to you they wished to attack our lair, Angelus.’

‘So they did, dear, but I dare say they would have soon got over their disappointment and found something else to do – in Bayswater.’

‘Ah. Yes of course. All of which makes William’s actions rather pointless, does it not?’

Will stopped kissing Dru, and waited. He was sure Angelus and Darla were both staring at his back.

‘Are you going to bed, boy, or not?’ Angelus said.

Will turned and looked at him in silence, then he grabbed Dru’s hand, mumbled a perfunctory ‘Madam,’ at Darla, and started for the door; very deliberately not looking at Angelus again. ‘Time for bed, Dru.’

‘No,’ Angelus said. And that was all: no explanation, no anger, just very calmly – with the unshakeable expectation that it would be obeyed. Will stopped in his tracks and stared at Angelus in disbelief while Dru dropped his hand and went back to her darling daddy’s side. Why? He wanted to shout, but didn’t dare; he felt stupid and young again, and all the things he despised. He turned and looked at the clock: he had been inside for perhaps half an hour – wherever Damon was going he could not have got far yet. If he told Angelus now there still might be time to catch him, bring him back. I like to please my sire, he had told Frank. And then he thought of Frank, dangling from his chains in the slaughterhouse of the scullery. And he imagined Damon in the same position. Only not facing Will: for Damon of Aurelius it would be the Scourge of Europe himself wielding the knife.

They were home, they were safe, and Albert the Free was dead. I am three years old, Will thought, I can manage without Angelus’s approval.

‘Sleep well, Will,’ Angelus said again, and then he turned his back.

Will came down the stairs that afternoon with the determination to be cheerful. It was his birthday: he was three years old. And although it wasn’t much compared to the hundred and thirty that Angelus was, or the three hundred odd of Darla, it was a definite step along the way. He had decided he was going to enjoy himself: so enjoy himself he would. Dru at least had clearly remembered this year; well she had as of that morning – which given Dru wasn’t a cast iron guarantee, but it was better than nothing. And if Angelus refused him permission to go out then he would take Dru and go without permission, consequences be damned.

He swung into the kitchen with a grin. The house was quiet. He had passed Murphy, slipping down the back stairs with a black eye and doubtless the promise of direr consequences to follow, but he had vanished somewhere towards the front. Ruben was dead; Amelia and Lusius were hurt enough to have grace to lie in bed. And Damon was gone.

In a few days no doubt Ralph would be joining them, and Angelus would have no trouble making numbers back up soon. There was never any shortage of ambitious young vampires eager for a place with the Scourge of Europe. But as he battled the range to yield enough heat for a cup of tea, Will decided that he was grateful that for his birthday there would be only the old minions around. They had all been with the family for almost all of his short vampire life, and today that felt right.

There had been no indication from Angelus that he would have any tolerance if he skipped his usual tasks, but he skimped them and hoped for the best. Harold appeared at the appointed time, limping slightly but otherwise apparently recovered. He looked over Will’s perfunctory efforts at cleaning the drawing-room with his usual sour expression, and then raised his eyebrows in Will’s direction and examined him down his nose. ‘I feel, Master William, that this has received less than your full attention,’ he said with a tone of voice that managed to sound polite and threatening at the same time, and as usual Will felt like a junior officer being reproved by a very senior NCO.

He fidgeted, and then thought, sod this, it’s my birthday. ‘It will do for today, Head Minion.’

‘It will have to Master William. I have a special job for you today.’ And he turned and left without waiting to see if he was being followed, which gave Will little choice but to do so. He sulked along behind, downstairs to the kitchen quarters. Will gasped when Harold held open the door to the scullery and pointed inside.

‘But…!’

Harold held out a large scrubbing brush. ‘There is a bucket under the sink I believe.’

‘But it’s going to take forever: the ash burnt over the blood when he exploded. It’s set like blo— like concrete—’

‘The Master’s words were, “He made the mess: he can clean it up,” Master William.’

‘Oh, bloody hell. But why do I have to do it all on my own? Damon helped make it!’

‘Damon, Master William, is not here.’ Harold dropped the brush into his hand. ‘You, however, are here. And it was the Master’s particular instruction that you were not to be allowed back upstairs until you had finished.’ Will glared at him. ‘Properly,’ Harold added, and he went out.

Will threw the brush down and kicked it the length of the floor, so it skittered away and at least knocked a few bits of encrusted blood off. Then he grabbed the bucket, filed it with as much splashing as was possible while still getting some water into the thing, and hurled the contents at the flags. After that he jammed a rag in the outlet pipe, turned the tap on full, and proceeded to fling bucket load after bucket load at the floor, walls, and even the ceiling; whilst the sink overflowed to contribute to the mess. He cursed Angelus, Harold, Darla, Damon, Frank, and ferals in general. And the water splashed back at him until he was sodden, with a pinkish brown tinge streaked with grey soaked into his clothes and skin. He stopped at last, the empty bucket dangling from his hand, and stared around at the room, which was now swimming in dirty water. Then he saw Angelus, watching him from the doorway with an amused expression. Angelus was as immaculately dressed as always, in an evening suit, with emerald studs, and a green carnation in his button-hole. Will dropped the bucket with a splash, and Angelus took a smart step back as a small tidal wave rolled towards him. ‘Why do I have to do this?’ Will demanded.

‘I somehow doubt this is what you were asked to do.’ Angelus picked his way forward into the room, and turned the tap off, leaning back with a calm expression when Will took an angry step towards him.

‘Don’t you know it’s my bloody birthday!’ He pointed up at the window accusingly ‘It’s already dark – you’ve made me miss half the evening, you bastard!’

‘Really, your birthday?’ Angelus peered around the room with curiosity, as if he had never been in a scullery before. ‘You astonish me.’

‘You—’ Will stopped and his eyes narrowed. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Going on, Will? I have no idea what you mean. However,’ he looked up at the dripping clock, ‘it might be a good idea for you to go and clean yourself up quickly and change into, oh… say, the dress coat that’s laid out in your room. We don’t want to keep the horses waiting.’

Will whooped and ran out past Angelus, only splashing him slightly.

In under ten minutes he was ready and fidgeting in the hall whilst Angelus fussed over his hair. Harold passed them and gave Will a grin and a wink. Then Murphy and Amelia came past, heading for the second of two cabs waiting by the step, and they were both carrying several packages. ‘Its done! It’s done!’ Will cried, batting Angelus off his tie. ‘Come on, Sire.’ Angelus gave him a look, ‘Well we mustn’t keep the ladies waiting, must we?’ he said at once.

‘Very thoughtful of you, Will. Lead on.’

The packages were being passed in to Darla and Dru, who were waiting in one of the cabs. Murphy took a step back and waved Will in with a deep reverence and a deeper smile. Will scrambled up and Dru jumped on him at once with a hug that tumbled him back onto the blue velvet seat. ‘Three, three, three,’ she chanted. ‘Oh it is going to be so splendid, Will! We went a few days ago and tried it out, but there were too many silly humans there then and—’

‘Drusilla!’ Angelus pulled her back with a hug round the waist. He purred against her neck. ‘Your job, Princess, is to sit on Will’s lap and make sure he doesn’t look out of the window while we are driving. But you don’t want to spoil the surprise, now do you – not after keeping it for so long. Say “Yes, Angelus”.’

‘Yes, Daddy,’ she squeaked, and squirmed round so Will settled her on his knee. Angelus sat down beside him and threw an arm over his shoulder. Darla had the facing seat to herself, with the presents beside her. And she was smiling.

‘Happy Birthday, Will,’ she said. ‘You did very well yesterday, so be sure you enjoy tonight properly.’

Will was so surprised he said ‘Thank you, Madam,’ and felt he really meant it.

Angelus thumped on the roof and they pulled forward smoothly.

‘Presents,’ Dru said at once. ‘Mine first.’

Darla looked over the pile and passed two packages to Will. He juggled Dru across a little, then ripped the ribbon off the smaller one and unfolded the tissue paper to reveal a small blue bottle with ribbed sides, such as chemists used for poisons. There was still dirt crusted in the cracks and it was quite probable she had dug it up in a flower-bed during one of her periodic bursts of ‘gardening’. There was a plug of sealing-wax.

‘It’s a sunbeam, Will. All of your own. But the pretty glass will keep it safe from hurting you. I had it bottled specially because I know you sometimes miss it still.’

He dropped his face against the soft, silky skin of her arm and nuzzled in her scent. ‘Thank you sweetheart. It is the best present ever.’

‘Thank you for taking me to the Zoo yesterday, Will. It was a very yummy treat. Only it wasn’t…’

‘I know, sweetheart, it wasn’t the Tower of London. Maybe one day, hey?’

She sighed and then gave a brave little smile. ‘There’s another present from me, but it’s not as special.’

He tugged off the second ribbon and paper, and discovered a large box of cigars, which were mysteriously exactly the same brand as Angelus smoked. ‘Drusilla felt,’ Angelus said dead pan, ‘that if you had a box to yourself you might be less inclined to steal mine, and that domestic harmony would benefit.’

‘Daddy suggested it really,’ Dru whispered, ‘but I tied the ribbon.’

‘I prefer the sunbeam,’ Will whispered back, then he winked at Angelus, who winked in return.

‘Very nice, Drusilla,’ Darla said. ‘This is from me, Will.’ It was unwrapped, a plain tin flask which he turned over in his hand with a blank look. He felt Angelus’s hand move to the back of his neck and stroke up and down lazily, and he tried to raise the words to be polite. ‘I thought that you would prefer tin, Will, since Angelus cannot possibly make you polish it. And the irritating fellow in the shop assured me that it had a patent cork-lining, guaranteed to keep the contents warm,’ she said in an offhand drawl. ‘I have noticed that you seem to have trouble concentrating when you are hungry. It may come in handy on long nights.’

He tilted back against Angelus’s hand and smiled at her. ‘Darla, that is extraordinarily thoughtful of you, thank you.’ Angelus stilled.

Darla looked at him for a long moment. ‘My pleasure, William,’ she said, with a graceful incline of her head. And Angelus tripped his fingers up into Will’s hair, tugged once on a lock with a playful twist, and then dropped the hand back onto his shoulder.

Will examined the flask again and thought how pretty Darla looked, now that she was well fed and not worried about ferals for the first time in weeks. And how she wasn’t really such a bad sort – when she put her mind to it.

‘The minions’ joint present is in their cab with them, because I do not particularly wish to have to smell it all the way there,’ Darla was saying. ‘It consists, I am told, of a large chocolate cake, which Angelus assures me he is actually going to permit you to eat, although who knows what it will do to you; several jars of something unspeakable called Patum Piperium; and a crate of beer.’

‘And your main present from me is tonight in general; however, so you can’t complain, I organised that as well,’ Angelus said, pointing at the last package.

Dru lent forward and scooped it up. ‘Can I unwrap it?’

‘Course you can, Princess,’ Will said, before anyone else said different.

She bent with concentration over the ribbon and squirmed and flapped at him to leave her alone when he pinched her while she was busy. Then the knot was untied at last and the expensive looking creamy paper removed. She tilted her head with a puzzled look, and passed the present back to Will.

It was a book, brand new, with a beautiful brown and green binding tooled with gold, and gold edging to the pages. The title was worked on the cover:

Advanced Hunting Skills and Other Matters
A concordance of material
that a fledgling vampire is required to imbibe
~:~:~
by
Angelus of Aurelius

It was very thick.

Will stared at it and his heart sank.

‘I had one bound up for you specially, Will,’ Angelus said. ‘They are rather rare of course; it is peculiarly difficult to get people to publish such things. Open it: there is an inscription.’

Will flipped it open. The frontispiece was properly bound in but was of the thick cartridge paper Angelus habitually used for sketching. The inscription was at the top, in Angelus’s beautiful hand:

For Will,
upon the occasion of his third birthday,
because he thinks I don’t understand.
A

Underneath was a drawing of Will himself, looking out from the page with a cheeky smile. Will paused, as he always did upon seeing again the face that hadn’t shown up in a mirror for so long. Oh well, he thought, even if the book is a tedious doorstop, at least I get to keep one of his pictures of me. Will glanced at his sire, and turned to the table of contents. His eyes widened.

• William Harrison Ainsworth . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jack Sheppard
• Edward John Trelawny . . . . . . . . . . . The Adventures of a Younger Son
• Gilbert Abbott À Beckett . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Comic History of England
• Thomas De Quincey . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Collected Essays
• Jerome K. Jerome . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Three men in a Boat
• Robert Smith Surtees . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jorrock’s Jaunts and Jollities
• Wilkie Collins . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Moonstone
• Marquis De Sade . . . . . . . Known Works with Additional Rare Material

‘Did you think I hadn’t noticed how often you hide a different book inside the ones I have told you to read?’ Angelus said calmly. ‘I thought I’d give you something you actually wanted, but already inside a suitable cover.’

Will was speechless.

The cab rattled and jolted, and then stopped. Dru at once threw herself off Will’s lap, and had flung the door open and leapt out before he could stop her. He looked after her ruefully ‘I was going to hand her down.’

‘Never mind, William, you may hand me down,’ Darla said. Angelus patted Will’s shoulder and Will got up and assisted Darla out. ‘Ah, the Embankment,’ she said. ‘How… yes, well, I am very glad they saw sense about the lighting. Those electric ones were novel, but hardly becoming to the complexion. They will never catch on. I far prefer gas.’

‘You’re an old fashioned girl,’ Angelus said, offering his arm.

‘Well we’re here:’ Will demanded, ‘why are we here?’

‘Tsk, such impatience, my boy.’

The minions had already arrived, their cab having presumably found a quicker route, but they weren’t doing anything. They were lounging under one of the lamp-posts amidst two or three hampers, and chatting quietly; Amelia went over to pay the cab and retrieve the presents, Harold and Murphy were holding hands, Lusius was throwing snowballs into the Thames. Dru had vanished.

Will looked up towards the Savoy Theatre and wondered if Angelus had taken a box and they were waiting for the doors to open. In the hurry to dress he had forgotten his watch, but it felt late for the theatre. Angelus and Darla had crossed the street and were strolling along under the gaslights; Angelus did something that made Darla giggle like a girl. Will ran after them and dashed up against Angelus. ‘So what now, Sire?’

‘Patience, little one.’

Will frowned and grabbed for Angelus’s watch. ‘Is it the theatre?’ A firm hand closed over his wrist and turned it away before he got the chance to see the time.

‘A vampire should be able to wait for the correct moment, Will,’ Angelus told him sternly.

‘Well where’s Dru?’

‘I imagine she hasn’t gone far.’ Angelus caught Darla’s eye and she nodded slightly, dropped his arm with a fond pat, and strolled off by herself. ‘Come and talk with me, my boy,’ Angelus said, going and leaning on the balustrade, looking down at the Thames.

Will was puzzled, but went up beside him, copying his pose. He lounged, watching the inky black water, spotted with lights from the opposing shore. Angelus did not seem inclined to talk after all. Will heaped a little snow up on the rail, then flicked it off and watched it spatter down. ‘You once tipped me over this for being rude,’ he said inconsequentially. ‘Well – a bit further along.’

‘Did I? I don’t really remember. I’m sure you deserved it.’

‘It was the first time you kissed me.’

‘Ah, that night.’

‘I can remember that. And the taste of my first kill. The feel of the night air after I rose. Discovering how fast I could run. The first time I heard Drusilla laugh. How proud I felt, the first evening you trusted me to escort Darla on my own. You showing me a glow-worm when I’d never seen one before.’

Angelus smiled. ‘Remember the first time I made love to you?’

‘Yes. And the first time you beat me.’ Angelus straightened up a little and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Will shrugged. ‘At least you’ve always done both.’

‘You’ve always needed both.’

‘Yeh. Probably. The odd thing is, I can’t remember being made. I do remember Dru mesmerising me, and then she must have bitten, but I can’t remember the rest.’

Angelus stared out over the river; he brought one foot up onto the swell of the stone baluster, and rocked slightly, pushing himself back and forth.

‘It’s odd that, don’t you think? All this time and I don’t even know how it’s done.’

‘Hmm. What was that, my boy? Oh. Yes. Possibly. But you were dying: no reason to remember it clearly. And we aren’t here to remember some silly little human getting himself killed. We’re here because three years ago tonight William the Bloody was born.’ He reached out and cupped Will’s face. ‘And I remember every second of that night perfectly.’

‘Damon said…’ Angelus tilted his head and Will hesitated. ‘He said fledglings were only made to increase their sire’s power, and that one day you’ll send me away, like his sire sent him.’

Angelus met his eye steadily. ‘And do you believe everything Damon said?’

‘I don’t know what to believe.’

Angelus released his hold, but didn’t break eye contact. ‘Damon is a very clever young man, although not quite clever enough to hide it, but I have never had as high an opinion of his hunting as he does. Do you know why that is?’ Will shook his head. ‘Because he lacks the single most important skill for hunting: the ability to judge character. So I would never take too seriously Damon’s opinion on what I will, or will not, be doing in the future, or for that matter what I have done in the past. Very well, Will?’

Will nodded and tried to smile.

‘Sensible boy. Now you, on the other hand, are an excellent judge of character, which is why one day you will be a very good hunter indeed. And hopefully not as spoilt or arrogant as Damon: take for example his assumption that I did not know what he was up to, the past few days. I knew perfectly well, I simply did not see reason to stop him.’

Will looked away. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered.

‘What on earth are you sorry about?’

‘Damon – the ferals – I didn’t realise until it was too late, and then…’

‘What are you talking about, boy? Damon acquitted himself admirably against the ferals. You did very well, Will, but when all is said and done you are only three; I am extremely glad you had Damon to help you. And I have no doubt he will live a long and interesting life. Though I hope he will have the sense to lead it well away from my territory. Make it a point, Will, never to employ anyone who is cleverer than you are, but even more, never anyone who just thinks he is.’

‘But he betrayed you! He was a spy. The telegram—’

‘Damon! Of course he wasn’t. Damon has far too much sense to ever work with someone like Albert the Free. You don’t still think that telegraph was anything to do with the ferals, do you? The ferals never knew where my lair is: despite all you young fools drawing attention to us all the time, I do manage to keep it a secret. They had to try to torture the location out of Harold and Lusius, and couldn’t even do that properly; so how could they have sent a telegraph to the correct address?’

‘But they said they had a spy.’

‘I have no doubt they did: some idiot sent to try and find us who probably ran away or got himself killed days ago. The ferals, as you no doubt noticed, Will, were ill-disciplined half-wits.’

‘Oh. So what was the telegram all about?’

‘Well, I imagine that at five thirty yesterday morning when Damon went to whatever the agreed place was he did indeed find waiting the A who was relying on him to turn up; probably his brother Aristophanes. Although, as I said to Darla, the signature A is hardly proof of anything much. Angelus, Albert the Free, any one of a hundred Aurelians for that matter – there are a lot of us around. And as for that message… The post office is to blame for charging telegraphs by the word: it makes them so very hard to understand. I miss the days of carrier pigeons.’ Angelus winked and reached out to close Will’s mouth. ‘Cheer up, Will, it’s your birthday.’

‘Yeh.’ Will said at last. ‘I’m three.’

‘You are indeed.’

He turned round and gazed at the lights of the theatre, casting a questioning look at Angelus, but there was no sign of any desire to move on his sire’s part. Will sighed and hopped up to sit on the stone rail. ‘The funny thing is that for the past three years all I’ve wanted is to get older: not to be just a stupid little fledgling any more.’ Angelus looked up at him with a smile. ‘Only, when you think about it, that’s silly. People are always going on about how childhood is wasted on the young, and why can’t they see it’s the best days of their lives. Well, living for eternity or not, I’m only going to be a fledgling once. I’ve been given a second chance – you gave me that chance.’ He stressed the you and looked at Angelus steadily. Angelus nodded quietly. ‘Call it the best nights of my life if you like. And I’m not going to waste them worrying about the future.’

‘That, Will, is very wise.’ And Angelus tipped him back, half over the balustrade, to kiss him fiercely.

Angelus straightened up, pulling Will with him. ‘Hmm, this boat seems to want to come in here for some reason,’ he remarked.

While they had been talking a large steam launch, of a size big enough to accommodate a deck for dancing, and gaily bedecked with streamers and coloured lamps, had been moving round from the far side of the bridge. And it was now coming in to dock beneath them – the soft humming churr of the engine deepening as it backed water to slow down, and then it gently swung in to bump against the pier. The beautiful copper of the engine gleamed in the lights, while a spiral of steam from the funnel drifted up to join the stars; it was like some tamed dragon of dreams and legends. A crewman ran out to make all fast. Will, who liked boats, turned round to watch.

‘My God, that’s Dru in the bow!’

‘Yes, it does look like her. And for some reason my entire household seems to be heading down the steps to go aboard. Do you think we should join them?’

Will’s eyes lit up. ‘We’re going on it!’

‘Well since I paid to have the whole thing to ourselves, and we have brought a picnic – the meal they wanted to provide didn’t sound suitable, ours is more liquid – it would seem rather a waste not to go. Unless of course you want to spend the rest of the night chatting here with me?’ He laughed as Will jumped down, grabbed a fistful of his waistcoat, and started to march him towards the steps. ‘Steady on, give an old man a chance.’

‘Hurry up! Which way are we going?’

‘Well that’s up to you. But the captain assures me that given this tide and a suitable bribe to the lock keeper we have plenty of time to make it to Hampton Court and back before dawn.’

Will cast greedy eyes up-river, towards the locks and inlets, quiet backwaters, and the long smooth stretches in between, where he had spent so many happy sunlit hours, and which had been denied him for so long. Then he looked down again at Dru. She was holding her arms to catch the rays from the coloured lanterns that, reflected back off the ceaseless water, cast mysterious patterns of blue, red, and green over her flawless skin. She was bewitched by them – and engaging and impenetrable and utterly, utterly beautiful. He looked down at his own hands and saw the same pattern, rippling prettily across his palms.

‘You know what, Angelus, I rather think we should go downstream. I’ve never seen Greenwich or the estuary.’

‘Whatever you wish, Will. Tonight is your treat.’

Will jumped onto the boat with a graceful leap. ‘Come along then, Sire, let’s take Dru to see the Bloody Tower.’